The first time I heard my friend call it that it took me by surprise. "You know, that part where there's a big curve and if you miss it you'd go off a cliff and a couple hundred feet down?" I almost nodded. I knew the whole road through the park.
I don't know each part. I know it all. Start to end, front to back. That is, if there were a start or end. This place had a name now though, and every time after I watched for the part. It was hard to see.
The road was a hundred miles long, it had no parts I could separate. It just was. But when I looked I saw the devil's dip. I thought about all the cars that had gone over. They must have. Why else would it have a name. People I knew. Kids. People I should have known.
And what about that boy that rode his motorcycle to California and didn't ride it back. Was it to a place like this? Why not just come here. Wouldn't this do? Why let the devil have the legacy. Maybe that's why. Maybe there is a better place to go than this.
