Friday on the road north to Oakland, an 18-and-a-half mile detour off I-5, thanks to a mysterious hazmat truck fire. We were rerouted along the Lerdo Highway and up to Lost Hills. In between, orchards abutting oil fields; beehives parked in front of endless rows of budding fruit trees; and company housing I’m inclined to describe as decrepit, courtesy of Belridge Farms. Belridge Farms seems to be a subsidiary of Paramount Citrus, at least as far as I can piece together from the internet and what I’m able to remember from discreet signage at 65 m.p.h. Let’s say no one out here appears interested in drawing much attention to their corporate identity. I spied a Chevron logo tucked behind a stand of cypress.
Lost Hills seemed very country, very poor. Dirt sidewalks, a liquor store. Lots of Spanish speaking children playing in yards and driveways. People were craning their necks at the cars passing through, obviously wondering what we were all doing here. At a stop sign, I heard a person call out to another, “Algo pasó,” something happened.
