LA traffic

I drove down to SoCal with my son this morning. Left at 7:30, made excellent time for the first three hours, got a ticket for going 100 mph in a 70 mph zone, then crawled along at 80 miles an hour until we hit the 405 freeway. And the last 60 miles took us two freaking hours.

The cop who pulled me over asked me why I was in such a hurry and I didn’t have a good response — I wasn’t in a hurry and I didn’t mean to be going that fast. What I wanted to tell him was that I wasn’t used to driving a car that could go that fast and not feel like I was going that fast. Sometimes I’d just be whizzing past cars and only realize how fast I was going when I looked down at the speedometer. My own car just doesn’t go that fast…and if it did, it wouldn’t do it that smoothly. The cop informed me that had I been going 1 mph over that, it would’ve been an automatic 30 day driver’s license suspension and 2500$ fine. When he gave me my ticket I wanted to ask him if he thought I could go to traffic school for it, but I just assumed I couldn’t. I haven’t had a moving violation in too many years for me to even remember. Which sucks because I was just starting to seriously consider buying a motorcycle again.

But I love driving sometimes. The hills were beautiful (even if brown), the sheep were shorn, the baby calves were eating grass, the windmills eternally and patiently spinning, Pyramid Lake had quite a bit of recreation activity on it (I’ve never seen that — I thought for a while that it must’ve been off limits to the public), KROQ on the radio, the 5, 405, 101, 10, 105, 110, 710, 605, 22, 55, Redondo Beach, Seal Beach, Long Beach, Huntington Beach, Costa Mesa, Newport Beach — years and years of memories spanning a two hour long stretch of the coast. Besides San Francisco, this is the only other place in the world I call home. And I’m always amazed at how much it feels like home as I’m driving in. Though after two hours of sitting in traffic on the 405, I sometimes wish it weren’t.

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