In general, driving has always been a therapeutic experience for me even with LA traffic. I love 6 hour drives to the bay by myself, not just cuz I get to see my family and friends, but because I just love the drive, contemplating, blasting music, singing, blah blah. I can pick people up from the airport so they don’t have to take the flyaway, rely on myself more, live on my own schedule, etc. Driving even sparks my analytical side, and I get really obsessive about gas efficiency and it gets me thinking about the math behind traffic, chaos theory, how gears work, blah blah blah.
BUUUUT, some of its glamor faded the past 36 hours because my car battery died. First it died yesterday afternoon in Westwood, but luckily the first person I called had jumper cables (thanks Bro.) Then it died in last night in Santa Monica, outside of Wokcano, and luckily Carolyn had jumper cables (thanks Carolyn.) Then it died AGAIN in front of my apartment this morning, preventing me from helping out Erich for a photoshoot, and luckily Carolyn still had jumper cables (thanks Carolyn and Jon for helping me.) It actually kind of hurt to hear my engine sputter aimlessly, and the possibility of routing however many volts between my body and car batteries three different times was pretty fucking scary too. A $100 service/replacement fee also sucks too (especially when my parents get it for free in the bay.)
BUT, at least I can still drive.