People walk on PCH. There's the jogging girl - woman, really - big boobs showcased in a tight white top, with a high-stepping gait that make her look like a drum majorette. There's the library aide who's been walking to and from work for at least the last ten years. She's shy as a deer and startles if you speak to her but there she is, five days a week, walking. People dash across the highway to eat at Malibu Seafood, families wander down to the beach from the Malibu RV Park.

And there's Walking Man.

He's about 35, tall and square-shouldered with curly russet hair that's always cut short, and he's always walking. Fast. Some people lead with their feet when they walk, others with their shoulders. Walking Man's center of gravity propels him, straight from the solar plexus. He swings his arms and his stride is long and economical. He looks straight ahead, always just straight ahead and each time you see him, you wonder where he's going.

He showed up about five years ago, dressed in a brown corduroy suit, jacket and pants, neat as a banker denying you a loan. It took a week for his edges to fray, for the suit to look shabby, for the fact to sink in that he's sleeping outside, that he's homeless. But PCH here gives you just two choices, north or south, so if you're on foot, we see you.

Over the years, Walking Man has come and gone. He vanished soon after that corduroy suit fell to shreds, then reappeared in jeans and a blue Oxford shirt. Next it was a grey suit jacket and black pants. One fall, during fire season, he wore the bright yellow bottoms of a firefighter's rig, fat black suspenders slung over his bare chest. It was the only time he looked more mad than dapper.

And now he's back again. Blue jeans and a rugby shirt. I saw him yesterday, hiking up the long, hot hill to Cher's place. I was going to take a picture but the thought of it felt wrong, like spying on Boo Radley. So if you're curious, come drive PCH. Not much traffic in these post-summer days. Walking Man's the guy on the side of the road who, amid all the swim suits and suntans and sand pails, looks like there's somewhere he's got to be.