It all started with the coyote on Sherman Way heading north from the southbound freeway entrance. Like another encounter years before I was frozen in my tracks and I can imagine the other two cars to the side of me at 2AM on Christmas Eve, well—maybe they did feel something, but they didn’t seem to mind much and continued forward heading onto the 101. I, on the other hand, had missed an opportunity once and was not going to miss it again. I pulled ahead slightly, a little past the southbound off ramp (no cars in sight) and hovered in my car looking out of the drivers side window. I fumbled my phone in hope of capturing, despite it being mostly a black night, cursed out loud at my repeat offense of not being able to live in the moment, and watched the wily coyote dart hop into what would have been a dangerous direction had it not been for the present circumstances. I watched in awe—saw him skip ahead, stop, turn around—the few non-exiting cars that were on the freeway scaring him a bit with their speed—and experience indecision, not knowing whether to find an early Christmas Eve dinner on the freeway, in the brush to the side, or back in my direction. Still I gazed, rendered completely immobile. He decided that the freeway would suffice and I watched him disappear into the dark while a couple of cars in the distance hinted an imminent exit.
I journeyed ahead for a moment before making a quick u-turn and heading onto the freeway. Within seconds I was up to 80, the Los Angeles flow of traffic, and my mind drifted to coyotes of memories past. Most likely a Friday or Saturday. 2AM. Maybe 3. My friend and I tired after a long night out. We were heading up Gower towards the hills, moving slower than normal, bullshittin’, when a couple of blocks before my drop-off point, we saw two dogs heading our way. We defaulted to disbelief thinking that they were two similar looking stray dogs, but the closer they got, hopping slowly like they do, we realized they were two coyotes. It felt like they could have been brothers, maybe even twins. The way they gained in unison, eyes straight ahead, like they were coming directly for the car. Finally both sides reached a crossroads. Them—knowing we might create trouble further ahead—and us, at first doing everything we could to get a video, and soon after hypnotized by this growingly singular moment. They decided first; to journey up a hilly street to their right, and like them, we non-verbally decided to pursue, not wanting the moment to end.
That was the closest we ever got to them. We sidewinded and tossed and turned and created a ruckus with them barely in our sights, culminating in a final moment where we stalled at an intersection knowing they were close, and watched them come out of nowhere in front of the car and subsequently vanish into the hills.
At this point, I was passing Universal City to my left, nearing my favorite part of the 101 where it starts to feel like a turnpike out of a video game. As the car surges ahead there is an overpass or bridge of sorts and you watch the cars ahead dip below and just as quickly shoot back up. One of those classic recurring memories that seem to last much longer than the two or three seconds they actually last. This made me think of heading south past West Adams Blvd on Arlington Ave near Leimert Park and for an instant as you reach the top of the hill you can see LA spread out in front of you with the palm trees in various points of your eye line. I remember taking a much anticipated video of this when I implored a revisit and was shocked at how quickly it had passed. There’s something to be said about the real-time experience of it all.
Was it also two seconds before I reached the Gower exit, shut off like a cannonball and came to a halt right by the underpass of the 101, where I neighbored a homeless encampment that has grown to shocking levels over the years? It feels like yesterday when there was just a couple of tents. Now, there is no empty space anywhere you look. Both sides of the sidewalk and the middle section, as well. New discarded furniture arriving every day. More trash littered in the streets. Were they able to sleep? What was on their minds? Did they know it was Christmas Eve? Could they have cared less what day it was? Were any of them in their tents? Or were they wandering coyotes in the night? Looking for food. Looking for money. Looking for ears. Looking for souls. Looking for a home.
I made that left at the stop sign and went up Gower, passing Franklin, and since the city had gone quiet and the houses had gone dark, I turned the lights of the car off and inched slowly ahead. Looking. Looking. Looking.