I’m not even going to pretend to know what this auto industry bailout crazy-talk is about. When old men nerds start talking all business-like about boring things such as “manufacturing,” “dividends” and “mass unemployment,” I just tune out and think about more interesting things, such as presidential turkey pardoning and what type of dishwasher soap I need from the store. I’d be more interested in this automaker “meltdown” if Xzibit agreed to pimp all of GM’s rides with Cristal-holders and Jacuzzis.
Anyway, all of this car talk has got me thinking about how dealing with cars and their drama can be a tremendous annoyance, and how refreshing and pure life can be without one ““ even in Los Angeles. Yeah, it’s nice to have a car for certain occasions, such as grocery shopping or cruising the streets for hotties like I did as a freshly licensed 16-year-old, but there are other ways to get around.
I had a car here at school for a couple of months at the beginning of the quarter: a 1986 Volvo station wagon, the finest automobile in all the land. As fun as it was sitting in traffic on the 405 without air conditioning for 45 minutes, having a car quickly became a hassle ““ like when the steering wheel stopped working. So now “The Volv” is back in my hometown, and I feel like a 3,000-pound weight has been lifted off my shoulders.
Some may think that voluntarily ditching a car in Los Angeles is like losing a limb, but it’s more like amputating your pinky toe ““ you don’t really need it; you just think you do.
I survived just fine without a car for my first two years here, and in fact had some pretty memorable experiences taking public transportation. Getting catcalled by “ladies” of questionable gender while waiting for the Metro 2 bus on the corner of Vermont and Sunset is something I won’t soon forget. Taking the bus is awesome and makes me feel like I’m really part of the city, interacting with the freaks, geeks and other beautiful Angelenos ““ and, this may be the only part of the city without a Botoxed person in it.
As an independent woman of the Destiny’s Child generation, using public transportation is the ultimate example of this self-reliance that I so covet. I like knowing that I can move from one part of the city to the other without a man, er, car. I think of bold flappers taking the streetcar uptown to sweet jazz clubs, and while a girl taking a bus is nothing new these days, there’s something about being away from home and relying on your wits that’s empowering, regardless of sex. It helps that I have an uncanny sense of direction and am something of a Metro know-it-all in case I get lost.
Last weekend, I took public transportation to visit my friend Phil, an architecture student who lives in the Arts District just east of Downtown. Even though it’s just 12 miles from Westwood, this distance may as well be Siberia without a car, right? Wrong. I took the bus to a Metro Red Line station and got to the area in about 45 minutes ““ a smidge longer than it would have taken on the freeway ““ but it was a very pleasant ride with lots to look at, including a thug in his Sunday church clothes swigging from a handle of whiskey he’d stashed in his bag.
I’m far too stubborn to let the vastness of the city defeat me, even if it means waiting an hour for a bus that doesn’t come. But again, I have another anecdote: After waiting for a phantom bus this Halloween, my friends and I waved down a limousine, and after some expert bargaining, got the driver to take us back to Westwood for $5 each. I thought that this is what it must have been like for the cool kids in high school who took Hummer limos to the prom ““ hilarious.
There are obviously some things to be improved upon for public transit here in Los Angeles, but I just can’t give up on it. Riding a packed bus in Echo Park after the Dodgers have won is an amazing feeling that just cannot be replicated in a Prius. You feel part of a community that is nonexistent if you just breeze through from Point A to Point B. It’s a shame to miss out on such rich, urban experiences when they can be hard to come by in this city.
You know the phrase you can’t understand a man until you walk two moons in his moccasins? Well, you can’t understand the city until you’ve ridden through it on the No. 2 bus.
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If you want to split a Hummer limo to the USC football game next week, then e-mail McReynolds at dmcreynolds@media.ucla.edu.