The Siroker Brothers

Roadtrip to L.A. Part Deux: Why I Hate Driving in Los Angeles

After dinner and dessert, we drove south for about half an hour and stumbled upon Carmel. As we drove down the main street to the beach, I noticed several peculiar things about this cozy, tree-covered beach town. First of all, every third shop on the side of the road was an art gallery! I realized there were more art galleries than Starbucks. How could I tell? Because there were no Starbucks at all! The local community must have made a conscious effort to prevent chain stores like Starbucks, McDonalds, or Walmart from infecting the quiet mom and pop feel of this wealthy beach town.

In order to fulfill the tourist inside both of us, Marissa and I decided to drive along the entire length of Carmel’s Scenic Road. The road curved along the edge of the beachside homes and gave us a spectacular introduction to the “good life”. Having grown up in Palo Alto, I have seen my fair share of fancy houses, but none of them were as beautiful as those on Scenic Road. The homes weren’t particularly huge or awe-inspiring—but they all gave me an overwhelming feeling of homeliness. I would rather live in a small two-bedroom home along this road then a mansion anywhere else.

Scenic Road in Carmel

We drove by just as the sun was setting and I could see families eating dinner next to large bay windows that overlooked the ocean. As we drove further, I noticed a pair of women joyfully chit-chatting as they jogged along the road. The houses were at most two stories and each one had its own character. There was one that was modeled after the classic picket-fence family home. Another was built like a mini-château. A couple were built entirely out of brick. These houses all fit together to create an aura that was entirely “Carmel”.

After our trip down I-want-to-live-there-when-I-grow-up lane we stopped by the beach and called some local hotels to find the cheapest place to stay for the night. We settled on the Best Western lodge a couple of blocks from main street.

In the morning we walked around and found a nice diner that sat in between two art galleries. I had hash browns, eggs, and sausage while Marissa had an omelet. Soon the wonderful town of Carmel would be in my rearview mirror as I drove down highway 1 on our way to Los Angeles.

Marissa and I posing on the side of highway 1

Luckily for us, we were now on the most beautiful highway on earth. It only seemed to get better and better as we got further south. This one lane highway along the coast of the Pacific Ocean had such spectacular views that it rightly deserves its nickname. Driving along the road, I came across the scariest thing I have ever seen: tire tracks. Every couple of miles I would see two parallel black tracks on the road that were left by a car skidding along the pavement towards the ocean, or into a big crater in the side of the mountain. These tire tracks were a nice reminder for me to keep my eyes on the road and to avoid taking in too much of the scenery as I drove. We would stop along the side of the road fairly frequently to let a speed demon pass us, or to take some pictures.

Panoramic view of the Pacific Ocean

Me looking like a goofball

At one point it felt like we were on top of the world (or at least hundreds of feet above the ocean) so we decided to do our usual “stop and snap a few photos” routine. We stopped, and then I pulled on my door handle to open my door and bang! The door flew open as a huge gust of wind blew against the inside of the door. I looked at Marissa fearfully and she returned the look. I promptly grabbed my door and pulled it shut and decided to keep driving along before the wind blew us off the cliff. After the fact, I wish I wasn’t such a wimp and got out of the car to take some pictures.

Another panoramic view of the Pacific Ocean

Eventually, we got to San Simeon and Hearst Castle. This is essentially where the “most beautiful highway on earth” ends. It was in some ways a relief because I could stop worrying about falling off the cliff or getting run over by the sports car behind me. The rest of the trip to L.A. was barely as beautiful. We stopped in Pismo beach for a late lunch and ice cream. Later we stopped at Solvang, the “Danish capital of America”. When we were in Solvang we decided that, instead of staying another night at a hotel, we might as well keep on driving and get to L.A. one day early.

Driving to Los Angeles

I made an observation as we continued the drive from Solvang to L.A. I would have thought that drivers would become more aggressive gradually as I drove south (everyone knows that L.A. drivers are very aggressive). It turns out that aggressive drivers just “appear” out of nowhere right around Ventura. Apparently, this is exactly where the tap water gets really nasty-tasting: coincidence? I think not.

I spent the rest of the weekend shopping and helping Marissa move into her new apartment. The first night in Los Angeles we had quite an experience with our high school friend, Eric Lee, as we tried to find a place to eat dinner in Korea Town, which happens to be in the heart of urban L.A. Luckily, we survived K-town, but only after seeing about six siren-blazing police cars drive by us as we ate. Later in the weekend, Marissa and I went on a date at 3rd street by the beach and watched “The Hulk”.

The one overwhelming conclusion I made after spending a couple of days driving all around Los Angeles: I hate driving in Los Angeles. Why? For a couple of reasons:

1. If I want to change lanes and there is a car anywhere near me in the other lane I have two options:
   a) signal my intent to change lanes: this will result in the other car doing whatever is humanly possible to prevent me from getting into the lane I need to be in (including speeding up and slowing down)
   b) do not signal: this will result in the car behind me high-beaming me with their lights until they are satisfied that they have taught me a lesson for wanting to be in their lane
2. If I’m in the far right lane of the freeway going the speed limit, 65 mph, and the guy behind me wants to go faster, he will high-beam me until I cry
3. Rush hour lasts from 3pm to 8pm
4. Highway construction starts at 10pm causing a “second rush hour”
5. The notion of street lights with arrows (as opposed to solid circles) has alluded Los Angeles. Essentially every left turn is unprotected.

After helping Marissa get settled in for summer school, I went back home by myself along highway 5. As I drove north I realized I would really, really miss my girlfriend. We had spent a wonderful couple of days driving along the coast and being a tourist in our own state. It’s funny: People travel all around the world to find amazing sights and spectacles when, in reality, there is more to see in their own backyards.