Last night was a typical Sunday summer evening in Los Angeles when the traffic all comes sighing back into town at the same time. When you follow the 210 in from East of the 15, there's a blissful stretch where the road is advertisement free. But once you cross the freeway, all bets are off. You're marketed to left and right about lat bands, AM talk radio shows, upcoming places to eat, places to shop, and bridges to drive your car off of. If you're listening to anything like Gavin Byars' "The Sinking of the Titanic," or Aphex Twin, you'll want to hit an embunkment at high speed.
Unfortunately for me, high speed equals whatever my car can get up to. On Friday my car overheated while heading up into the mountains around Big Bear, and that was a fun experience. Waiting by the side of the road while the water in my car percolated like piping hot coffee is enough to make you want to live off the grid like a hermit, riding your bike into town once every six months to pick up supplies.
However, once my chugged two gallons of coolant and was freshly hydrated, I was back on track and loving my gas-guzzling non-eco-friendly metal footprint. I think I got off easy with a $30 repair, and now I have to teeter on the edge of buying a new car, or learning to love the old one until the bomb actually does drop.
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