It's a Northwest day. We don't have many of these in Los Angeles. They are nice. Misting all night, maybe a light pitter patter. The sidewalks show their many shades of grey. The sky reflects these like a mirror.
Moisture makes the pavement absorb what light filters through the mist. I zip through Hollywood traffic to the Valley, returning back via Laurel Canyon. As I'm driving home through these iconic hills, I watch my speed. It's new asphalt, black and gleaming and just aches for dancing up the gears. But I know the cops watch this, so I keep it purring softly. I glide through the turns, pairs of white lights snaking down the other side.
I crest the top and we coast into the valley, mist rising out of the darkness.
I can't help but think, this is the city I love. These dark, misty nights, streets black with moisture, my hand on the stick, safe in the grid.