This morning I spent a few hours writing about a soccer player, then headed out to blow off some steam. Let me rephrase that – I left to acquire some necessities, thank you Gov. Newsom.
Rage Against the Machine went with me and Zack de la Rocha’s vocals and Tom Morello’s searing guitar provided the backdrop for my drive.
At the AM-PM in Highland near the 210, I filled my tank and picked up a large coffee. The woman clerk reached out for my $2 with a gloved hand, as if I had leprosy. The novel coronavirus has everyone spooked.
I should have driven west on Base Line and headed home, but I took a left turn onto the 210 and headed for downtown Redlands. After four straight days cooped up, I needed to get out.
So I motored across the wash and took the Orange Street exit and pulled into the parking lot behind Starbucks. I thought about days past, seeing Jim Walker and his football staff and fellow media guy Pep Fernandez there. Now there was nobody and the tables and chairs in front of Rubio’s Coastal Grill and Starbucks were stacked up. Weird.
Caddy corner from Starbucks sits the other caffeine merchant, the Coffee Bean. I found more unused tables and chairs in the patio there — though this establishment (like Starbucks) was open on a take-out basis.
“Not scared of the pandemic?” I said to customer Scott Baker of Redlands as he maneuvered a tan latte in his hand.
“I think it just comes down to common sense,” he said. “I wash, I shower and I avoid crowds. I’m working 18-hour shifts and I need to keep going. I work security for my company and we handle cleaning supplies and toilet paper. The Lojack system on our trucks is all computerized and I have to keep an eye on it.”
I only vaguely knew what he was talking about, but he seemed sincere. And my ears perked up when he said law enforcement types were doing compliance checks in Victorville and Loma Linda, pulling over drivers to make sure they weren’t out joyriding.
Knowledge received, I bid Baker good-bye, adding that I would not shake his hand. He looked relieved.
Hiking across the parking lot to Trader Joe’s, I got an eyeful. There was a line of 40-50 ashen-faced souls, waiting to enter the building in groups of four. The people were silent, like they were being led to the gallows. It was all very post apocalyptic.
Having seen enough, I then returned to my car. I revved up the motor and the “Rage” once again filled my car with its grim rap metal.
“We’ve got to take the power back!” lead singer de la Rocha wailed. “We’ve got to take the power back!”
But how?
Main Street Dog 