cal i forn I A

After scrambling for a radiator fluid cap and one last visit to the rim of the Grand Canyon to record a song, we were on the road...in perfect timing. Not the timing we anticipated, but nothing lost...except an attachment to the illusion we were in control in the first place.California. Another first.Maybe it's the compelling curiosity of the unknown or the driven glory of conquering America, but (besides border patrol and getting our picture taken a million and a half times by roadside cameras) there really was something invigorating about crossing into California.And finally, my heart's desire to visit Uncle Lowell was about to be fulfilled. But not without a proper greeting...Nearing L.A. (and not Lower Alabama, for you southerners), we needed to fill up on gas. Stopping at one of the gas stations along the palm tree laden roads, we stopped at a pump in our bug encrusted vehicle."Welcome," she said. Caught off guard, I turned and she asked "Is it your first time in California?" Was it that obvious? I guess our mosquito plastered car packed to the roof with Tennessee plates revealed all. "Yes," I replied as I smeared the bugs around our windshield. "Well, welcome to California!" she smiled and went on her way.I don't know what I was expecting in L.A., maybe gangs or movie stars or hipsters or anyone on the fringes. But we found just a friendly girl. Kind of like the "girl next door"...only across the country. Kind of like "southern hospitality"...only southern California instead.When I travel to different countries, it's easy for me to appreciate differences while seeing the commonalities of just being a person...a soul looking for Life here on earth. Now immediately, in this strange land of California, I was confronted with the commonality of the human heart...at a gas station.