Yesterday, it occurred to me that I could simply put Betty's top down...and leave it down. She's garaged at night anyway, and we can go topless during the day. There's no danger of rain for a couple of months, not here in sunny California. With the top down, and the windows up, wind noise is minimal. And the whistle is gone.
This afternoon I donned a floppy hat, climbed in and drove to T.O. for a movie (Harry Potter. Again). I took back roads, sharing Kanan with an older Jag, also topless. There is a sense of belonging, a sense of connection with my surroundings that I haven't felt before. Not in a car.
After the movie, Harold joined me. We stopped at the mall for coffee from Coffee Bean, then drove around the outskirts of town, down Lynn, to Wendy, then south on Potrero, bordering parkland and the Santa Monica Mountains. Here, the road is as windy as any country road, and the parkland gives way to estates and then further, to open vistas of horse farms.
The road here is bordered by white fences, each marching on, in to the distance, then farther, still, to the mountains beyond. Barns and homes are set far from the road, surrounded by green pastures and hay fields, backed up to the hill and mountainsides in this lovely corridor of the Conejo Valley.
Harold was enchanted. And I? Enthalled. Enough so, that I will be drawn to explore, even more, this countryside that I so love. Me...and Black Betty. Top down!