1976 | San Francisco
I enjoy driving, and I make an effort to look ahead and attend to the essential tasks. My grandfather taught me to look a mile ahead, if the road allowed. (That might have come from his early years in Idaho, working around muddy hollows or snowdrifts while driving a horse-drawn milk-wagon, or on foot, to spot a river crossing where a boatman might ferry him across, to sell encyclopedia subscriptions to rural parents who were sometimes not literate themselves.)
And so it’s a relief to be a passenger, and to direct my attention to the challenge of my moving camera, and things flying past.