Yesterday dawned brilliant and clear as happens in Los Angeles only after a rainstorm or a night of wind--in this case wind. Having mostly recovered.... Yesterday dawned brilliant and clear as happens in Los Angeles only after a rainstorm or a night of wind--in this case wind. Having mostly recovered from a stubborn cold, I checked the tire pressure on my old Bridgestone--an odd sort of go-anywhere bicycle with fat tires and ram's-horn handlebars--and headed out for my chores and lunch meetings and so forth. I promised myself I would ride slowly--a promise easy to keep after the depradations of the recent virus. Though the streets were still noisy from the damn cars, the wind was brisk enough to keep the air sweet--and it was blowing uphill, much to my advantage!

It was Saturday, but the streets were crowded. I met Gina for lunch at my favorite coffeehouse--in a neighborhood where people of all ages and incomes actually walk and most folks know each other!--then headed east on Franklin Avenue for the next meeting.

Franklin is a two-lane street for its eastern segment, but is close enough to Hollywood Boulevard that it becomes an overflow for relentless congestion generated by the obsessive-compulsive driving characteristic of US denizens generally, and Angelenos in particular. At one point I encountered a line of cars backed up for fully a mile along an otherwise quaint and pretty little street! There they sat, nose to tail, somehow thanking themselves for being smart enough to take the less-crowded detour...I shifted the bike over two feet to the right and slipped past them in the doorspace (ever watchful for doors, of course). In four minutes I was at Vermont. The line of cars had inched ahead something less than half a block.

Let them have the prestige of their chrome strips and their stereos. It was a beautiful day where I was!