The first photos are from an unknown (meaning I can't remember which) beach while driving up the 1 back whenever I first did it. It must have been 2003. I posted some other photos from this same trip here and there and I'm starting to archive the rest of the photos but it's taking forever to scan and work on the images since my computer takes about 30 seconds to 2 minutes to complete any action these days, especially when I'm working with big files such as these. The later ones were the middle hours of driving up the 1, when I was beginning to realize I couldn't stop every time I saw something I thought was completely life changing, but was still trying not to crash my car. I was torn between hauling ass on those lonely stretches of pavement and stopping every third of a mile. I guess I tried to compromise with both until it got too dark to shoot any more. It's kind of strange, looking at these photos because it causes a sort of reverse nostalgia for the photos I lost (or more accurately, fucked up) of Susan and I driving along the 1 last month. It's not quite "reverse nostalgia"; it's more that the order of my emotions toward these photos and the ones I screwed up are reversed—the older ones are making me miss and regret the would-be newer ones more. I guess it's probably for the best anyhow.
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