on the road again

If you've read any of the previous LA posts, they all derive in some way from driving. It's what you do in LA, and the bane of my existence. While driving today, I was thinking about how my commute is completely void of human interaction, which made me miss interfacing with bums and crazies along my walk and MUNI ride in SF. I digress. I was also thinking about what I could write about this evening. If nothing else, Los Angeles is pure fodder for writers. As I'm stopped at a red light, I see the chrome spinners doing their thing on a shiny black Prius, complete with carpool lane sticker. I wonder who would drive such a vehicle and inch towards the car in front of me to catch a glimpse. Once the light changes, I'm able to see that it's an ancient, sage-looking asian man. Hip, convincing grandson the culprit here? Maybe.

I also encountered a baby blue 1980s Mercedes station wagon along my journey home. Reminiscent of the manner in which I rode to preschool, a small boy was riding in the back facing seat. He even had the decade-appropriate bowl cut. He waved goofily at me and I smiled. But then we got stopped at the next light beside one another and he got embarassed and slunk down in his seat to avoid eye contact.

I think it's just Friday-induced glee speaking, but maybe commuting isn't so bad in LA. It could also have been the good-vibe influence of The Wrens' The Meadowlands.