There's big dark clouds in the sky, so it's sort of a cool and dreary day, which is frigid by LA standards - by golly, it's late February and I have to wear a jacket. This stuff won't stand, I tell you. Traffic is a little cloggy, but for LA and the 101, it's really quite mild - no stop-and-go, just slow-and-go.
Suddenly the traffic clears. The clouds break over head. There's open road in front of me. A really good song comes on the stereo ("Nothing Better" by the Postal Service) and it's time to rock out. I do. One of my secret pleasures is singing loud and lusty when alone in the car. I'm car-dancing and everything - true and total car-aoke. I look to my right, and there are two girls in a coupe next to me completely rocking out, flipping their hair wildly and singing with abandon. In the rearview, I see a young Valleymom in an SUV with her Valleykid singing together to whatever's on their radio. Both of them are making grand operatic gestures.
For a few seconds, that's us - a pack on the freeway, totally rocking out.
Rock on, Los Angeles. \m/ Rock on!