I drove through the Headlands, over the high road and over the Bridge for the last time, listening to Toni Childs sing that sad song. As I fought the traffic on 19th street my sentimentality turned to the matter at hand. The rout south was convoluted and a wrong turn led me to a road of farms and vineyards. I stopped at a place that sold vintage seeds and bought Easter egg radishes. I ended up spending the night in Barstow in the Mojave dessert. It is cold and now I remember I am away from home.