Nobody's Driving
Six-forty westbound, out of Kalihi
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Nobody's Driving
Six-forty westbound out of Kalihi: a driverless car climbs the concrete guideway while the freeway goes dark underneath it — a cooler of ice, a lei already going brown, a kid standing at the front glass where the driver would be. Nobody's Driving rides that warm evening stretch of Honolulu's elevated line toward Kapolei, three verses of leeward rooftops, Pearl Harbor flat as a sheet of tin, and the Waiʻanae ridge gone orange, carried by close acoustic guitar, dry tight drums and a restrained full-band lift that keeps the voice clear above it.
Listen on the way home from work, on a late errand, or on any evening when you would rather be carried than do the driving.
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