Redemption and the Hitchiker
I'm driving the slick sinuous annoyance named Laurel Canyon Blvd. There had been a driving downpour this dark morning. Coldwater Canyon was slippery with slop. Stuck with traffic due to a landslide that’s blocking and bottling up the lanes. So here I am, driving super slow, caressing curves and keeping my eyes on the clock. I don’t want to be late for work. My Honda CV4 is a metaphor for my tenuous state. Bashed and battered on the driver’s side, I am embarrassed to be seen in this car. Ashamed at how I look. Everyone can see me and draw quick, uncaring or pitiful judgments. In Hollywood, your car is your calling card. It’s the telltale. “How well you take care of your car is how well you take care of your heart,” I was once told. Well, the car’s not worth enough to get fixed. At the tip-top of the hill, I see a convertible Karmann Ghia carefully parked in a drenched driveway. A man is hitchhiking next to it. Dressed in casual khaki from top to bottom, hatless and wearing no re...