It’s been a surreal first week in San Diego.

I achieved a professional milestone: I drove a vehicle to and from my assigned office for work.

In the 8 winters I survived in Chicago, I commuted to work by the El and CTA bus. In Sāo Paulo, we lived about 0.5 km walking distance from work. In New York, I commuted via the 6 train and then God’s Gift to the Upper East Side: the Second Avenue Subway.

The most surreal aspect of driving is how different the experience is from anywhere I’ve lived and worked. The rolling hills and sprawled nature gave me a vaguely nostalgic feel on the road.

The history of the area after WII explains much of the culture. There are more than two dozen military installations around the area. Many young Marines, and family and community members drive pick-up trucks. It’s a cultural marker.

The reality is San Diego is a beachside metropolis on a coastal desert. The sheer number of pick-ups on the road plus windy and hilly nature remind me of driving around Johnson City, Tennessee as a 17-year old.