Heading in a familiar direction up the Pacific Coast Highway, we eventually roll up to a turn-off that leads to a specific piece of property that has special memories for me. Memories that have me rubbing my thighs together desperately seeking friction at the thought.
The mustang kicks up dust as we travel down what used to be a small dirt road but now is finished with black asphalt fresh enough that I can smell the tar as it bakes under the late spring sun.
Coming around the turn, I spot the Pacific Ocean stretching endlessly into the distance, its effulgence somehow never fading with time. It doesn't matter how many times you see the ocean. It never gets old. There's just something about the sea that is magnificent. Timeless.
Lana Del Rey's West Coast blares through the speakers filling the interior of Lexington's cherry red car, setting the perfect background for the moment we're currently sharing.
