It’s a hot afternoon in August and I’m walking on the edge of the highway in Lake Tahoe, heading back to my parked car after a long hike. One after the other, motors are buzzing so close past me that I can feel the hot swish of air as they drive past.
Just a few minutes ago, I was zenned out in the woods. Now, I’m staring down Tahoe’s nightmare traffic, and it’s terrifying.