For a society that spends most of its waking hours in a car, Californians sure aren't very good at it. Momma taught me that practice makes perfect, but maybe Left Coasters need more theory and less practical experience. This was made clear to me over the weekend where I had the opportunity to drive from Long Beach to Santa Monica, then up Topanga Canyon, east to Tuhunga and then back to Santa Monica and the Long Beach Airport. In Southern California terms, this is a reasonable commute. To me it seemed like driving a gauntlet from Tijuana to Las Vegas.
Don't expect any courtesies from LA drivers. I think they felt inferior to their counterparts in New York, and decided they needed to be nastier to compete. They may be mellow once they arrive, but on the freeway you are fighting for a lane with the offspring of Tonya Harding and Charles Manson. If these people are smoking pot after work, it must be crystal meth with a Starbucks chaser to start the day.
Maybe they all knew I was from out of town. Maybe next time I should drive a Mercedes to blend in, or better yet, get a pimped out rental car. I'll check with Hertz.
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