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Fiction
Uphill " r om .he .rack
By Dave Klakovich
Su n day morning IS when the local moun tain roads in southern California are invaded
by canyon racers. R iders who, not having
fo und a place on the track, do their brand of
ra cing in th e ca nyons above
the city. Drawn by th e hot, dr y
air above three thousand feet ,
we stream up from the low-
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lands. .Th e pavement in th e m ounrains is cl ean and u n oiled , and th e
ro ad itself is o n ly partia lly reveal ed as
il climbs a head.
On th e co astal side o f th e m ounra in s the m ornings a re damp a n d
cool. with low clouds a n d fog. At 60
mil es per hour o n the freew a y. I was
bundled a ga i ns t th e co ld. lo okin g .
ahead 10 th e m ountains. Twenty co ld
miles brought m e 10 P asad ena . a t th e
fo ot o f th e San G abri el ran ge. My
Suzuki i 50 rum bl ed through th e sri II
sleepin g streets with its four-into-one
ex ha usl.
I m a d e a right tu rn o n An gel es
C rest Hi ghwa y, a n d in two mil es wa s
If'
