Early morning had been wrapped in chilled fog, but now the coastal highway is emerging from cloud into shirt sleeves of perfect sun joy.

The constant companionship of the sea answers the light: waves to wisps of fog, and rocks to sand.

My convertible takes each sculpted turn, descends and curves up into a new vista. The surf gleam is ecstatic. Cliffs look out on deep polished ultramarine sea shining purple.  Brilliant white fog banks roil up a gorge. 

Correlli blends perfectly with wind buffeting, with merging landscapes, and the hum of downshifting.  I hear bits of birdsong overhead or behind. An oceanic concerto fills my mind.

I rein in my convertible with other vehicles bunching, as we make a bumpy line dance along the highway. I taste the changing scents of foliage; some weedy, herbal, others mellow like hay.

On open stretches I speed up, deep breathing negative ions. Sky, rocks, road, fellow travelers, critters, ocean, sunlit air:  I am at one.  

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