8/8/11
Before, had I sat down and thought about LA (though I never would have), the image that would have come to mind is a mess of freeways choked in smog, a vague idea of some scary neighborhoods, a Hollywood sign, and some mansions sprinkled in somewhere. Even then I knew that wasn’t fair, but it’s all I knew or had heard about LA. The mess, smog, and sprawl is real, unfortunate, and perhaps unavoidable, but what’s surprising is how close so much beautiful, real wilderness is. Right now I’m 30 minutes outside of LA and here I am:
A private stream and pool of snow melt. Miles from cell reception. And there’s almost certainly at least one mountain lion with a half mile of me, though I’ll never see him.
The road to the Campsite through San Gabriel Canyon.
So LA, I guess I really don’t know you deep down yet, just your edges, but you’ve earned some of my respect.
Your drivers are still A-holes. Every single one of them. If you live in LA, I'm talking to you. You should be ashamed.
In LA, we met the man who crafted Lucy’s engine. He had never seen Lucy, and hadn’t seen the engine since it was shipped from his shop to OR over two years (but just 4,000 miles) ago. Lucy got a clean bill of health. Chico, thanks again for your part in turning Lucy into such a great bus.
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