somedays (and some recessions) there isn’t an easy way to avoid taking a Los Angeles freeway at an absurd hour, and by absurd, i mean, absurd to me, since a lot of other people think it’s a totally fine time to get on the freeway. for all the knee-numbing stop-and-go i do appreciate one thing that comes out of being stuck on the asphalt: freeways—unlike most things in life—provide a clear picture as to which way i want to go, and whether or not it’s the same way most people want to go. you pretty much know where you stand, as you, er, stand.
