Irwindale, California, viewed from either direction of the 210 Freeway is nothing to write home about unless, of course, you have absolutely nothing else to share with the folks back home. I pass by that particular stretch of nothing much twice daily, Monday through Friday, generally come hell or high water though neither has yet to appear during my decade long commute.
Here's something, though, that did appear the other day. I was heading East on my way to work and had just begun to breathe in deeply the smell of yeast which as regular 210 commuters know is a sure sign that Irwindale -- home of the Miller Brewery -- is imminent. Just as the brewery came into my view, I passed an 18 wheeler full of food with which to partially feed the world's millions of hungry children. I only knew this because that information was decaled all over the trailer. In front of that truck was a similar 18 wheeler carrying food to or from a Von's supermarket. In front of that 18 wheeler trucked along a truck carrying coffins. In front of that 18 wheeler, smoke spewing from its exhaust, a garbage truck like an errant snow storm left flecks of debris on the asphalt.
My early morning gosh I need more coffee mental haze lifted just long enough for me to say aloud, "Wow!"
From time to time during my work day I wondered if -- like the entrails of a chicken -- some message was to be divined from that strange 210 eastbound parade.
My work day ended, I entered the 210 headed west and home.
I observed no signs or portents.
Sometimes, it seems, a bunch of oddly arranged vehicles is nothing more than an ordinary commute on the 210 freeway.