so this is what it's like

I set out for Happy Valley just past eight, slipping a CD of Samuel Barber's violin concertos into the player before hitting the freeway. Normal enough.

But here's the thing: the music matched my every movement, every situation exactly. As the road's occupants fluctuated throughout the drive, so did the orchestra, running from a quiet string solo to the busy hum of a full orchestra as cars merged and left. I summited the point of the mountain in triumphant fanfare, trumpets and horns heralding the sweep of winter sun illuminating the valley below me, my own personal Fantasia. At the very crest of the hill the music took a sudden turn, ringing out in surreal first violin, a soft slide that mimicked my suddenly effortless drive downhill.

My first thoughts were of Lord of the Rings, the Rohan Theme, images of the Golden Hall. The mountains looked the part, that's for certain. And I couldn't help but feel some sort of swelling contentment, my life finally in sync with something.

Then came the thoughts of ballerina hippopotami and drunken fauns in vats of grapes and I made a mental note to check that out again. My favorite was always the baby pegasus. The black one.