It’s 4 in the morning. Well, 4:02 AM. You start with a full tank of gas, forty ounces of water, and a couple of granola bars for your journey.
Your goal: Los Angeles by 9 AM, preferably by 8:30. You take the freeway and hit the 5. You’ll spend the next four and a half hours here. You take it easy out of Sacramento - cops are notorious for hiding behind the bushes. You’re going 75 miles an hour, but you only have to do it for ten minutes.
After you leave the Freeport area, there isn’t anything until Stockton. It’s too early for the truckers to have woken up, and the Silicon Valley super commuters take the 80. But you still have to take it easy; it takes you 25 minutes to reach the center of Stockton. You see the super commuters heading to work and join them, acting as part of the rat race for a bit. But 15 minutes later, you’ve reached it. The split. You see the wagies split off to the 205, and you have the most pure, unadulterated stretch of highway you can get this side of the Sierras.
The twelve miles before the 5 joins back up with the 580 represent lawlessness, no cops, no other cars at 5 am. You press on the pedal; what should take ten minutes takes six. Unfortunately, it’s back to the merge, but here’s where it gets fun. You slow down a little bit, but you’re still cruising at 95. Soon, you see the familiar signs of Flying J, Chevron, on your left. You’ve reached Patterson, and it hasn’t even been an hour. You skirt the hills as you zoom by. You know that aside from a cop check at Los Banos, the highway is yours and yours alone.
It’s 175 miles to Buttonwillow, a trip that should take two and a half hours. You plan to do it in less than two. You put on your podcast and are in the zone. Google maps estimates you’ll arrive in LA at 10. You know you’ll get there at 8:45. You pace your water and granola intake, ensuring you can hold your bladder for the next two hours. Your miles per gallon drop thirty percent as you zoom by the few semi-trucks on your right. The sun starts to rise on your left. At first, it’s blocked by your A-pillar, but soon it’s in your eye, but you knew that. You anticipated that. You put on your sunglasses, drop your sun visor, and extend it all the way to the left. You shimmy your lightweight jacket on to protect your arms from the sun. Problem solved.
Soon you zoom by Kettleman City, the last of the hills, and you truly enter the valley. You see the sign of the In-n-out race by, and you see the few electric vehicles parked there, poor souls. Thirty miles and twenty minutes to Lost Hills. But Lost Hills is for the uninitiated, and you are initiated. You forgo the temptation of McDonald’s, Burger King, Taco Bell, and the Arco that’s so close in favor of an extra fifteen minutes. Buttonwillow, your only fuel and bathroom stop for the drive. You turn off and go under the 5. Taste of India? One day you’ll try it, but today isn’t the day. You see the farm workers already hard at work, and the taco trucks lining up at the SureStay. But you don’t have time for that.
You pull up into the TA Travel Center and start the pump. You leave your car with your water bottle. The Taco Bell and Popeyes combination shop are closed, but their drinking fountains are always accessible. You fill up on ice-cold water, set your bottle on the counter, and go take a piss. By the time you’re done, your car is filled up and ready to go. You’re ready to go. You throw away the Nature Valley bar wrappers that have entertained you for the last few hours, and you get back on the 5. Google says it’s two to the 110, but you know it won’t take you that long. The long on-ramp lets you hit the 5 running. It’s 6:50. You still have twenty minutes of fun before you have to merge with the 99, where the real traffic comes in. You take the bridge to merge in, wondering if it would’ve been faster to take the truck ramp. Well, who cares, it’s still early and you have time.
The outlets loom by like a man-made oasis. You’ve never been, and likely never will. You zoom by the Ikea Distribution center and prepare yourself for the Grapevine. There are warning signs to turn off AC, but it’s not warm enough yet to turn your AC on. Soon you’ve climbed up into the mountains, and you’re blazing by Fort Tejon. The gentle slopes of the 5 and the lack of traffic mean you save on gas at every decline. On your right, Pyramid lake. You always wonder if it’s named after the strange triangle carving on its side, but you’ve never been bothered to look it up. But now you know you’ll soon approach civilization again. You see the blue skies turn gray in the distance as you begin your descent. But don’t get too happy now, you still have a bit left to go and another mountain range to pass.
You see the empty Six Flags, and wonder if you were driving a few hours later, would it be full of children? But those thoughts leave your head as you zoom down the final stretch. You see the Van Norman reservoir. Whatever happened to those shade balls they put there? By now your trip is ending. There are cops and traffic on either side, but luckily it’s not too bad. You see the airplanes on the mall signs in Burbank, and the Ikea right next to the highway. Just a few more miles, and you’ll have reached the 110. You veer right through a rickety two-lane off carved into the Elysian park to merge with the 110. As you pass Dodger Stadium, you know your trip is finished; the view of the Intercontinental is in front of you. The time is now 8:37 AM.