As I Can't See It

At first I thought the call boxes on Highway 10 in L.A. were oxygen masks. I had heard of such things in Japan. Twenty-five cents can buy you a minute of clean air. But here, unfortunately, my lungs will have to endure.

Mostly we have the oil companies to thank for this unbreathable stuff. In the 20's and 30's the oil barons bought up the trolley and local train systems throughout the U.S.and closed them. This forced people to buy automobiles, thus providing a guaranteed market for their product. American's view of transportation was changed forever. Los Angeles, with it's super six-lane highways and endless traffic, was the result.

With traffic comes smog; lots of it. I can see a thick soup hanging like a curtain in front of me. Billboards and road signs are unreadable until I am almost under them, and the buildings along the road all look grey and drab. If it could be bottled, 'Traffic Jam' would replace 'Marmalade.' Halted lines of cars are everywhere.

As I drive down The 10, I notice that not one car carries more than the driver. Despite the car pool lane, pooling is apparently not a California thing to do. Here more than anywhere, it seems that people love their cars. For a trip three blocks down to a restaurant, my friend said, "Hop in the car." To travel a block to the store, it was, "Come on, I'll drive." Two-legged transportation has been replaced by the thrill of the accelerator. I have chosen to walk while I am here, and a city designed for the auto leaves me crossing six lanes of traffic to get to the grocery store.

Despite the poor air quality (I'm not sure it's appropriate to use those two words, air and quality, in the same sentence), LA is a sought after town. "It pulls you in," my friend told me. And the chorus words to LA's theme song echo what I am told. "It's all here in L.A." There are beaches, deserts, movie stars, endless restaurants and stores and a never-ending nightlife that seems to spill over into the day.

After spending three months living in a van, all of this just seems too overwhelming for me. Give me a mountain with clean air and I'm happy. In one week, I'll be far away from the Halloween gang killing sprees, the Hollywood gossip, the traffic and the smog, and I won't miss any of it.