Up, up and away

There’s no shortage of complaints about the commute. And it doesn’t even matter where the commute is. If you live in the greater Los Angeles or Orange County area, you are, as we say in the driving biz, screwed.

When I worked recently in Santa Monica for a few months, it took almost an hour to get from the west side to the freeway at rush hour. We’re talking mere blocks. And then another hour to crawl home. Everyone has a commute-from-hell story.

It’s not as if there haven’t been solutions offered to relieve gridlock. Like the picture above from 1954. Yes, 1954.

A monorail system that rides over the center lane of the freeway. It follows the same route, and the property is city owned reducing the cost. Stations would be on a platform, visible, reducing crime.

Then there was the time in 1955 when Walt Disney offered to build a monorail system like the one at Disneyland from the beach to downtown L.A., fifteen miles of track for the then crazy price of free.

But L.A., being the forward thinking city it’s always been, decided to yield to the auto companies and not implement any form of mass transit beyond buses in order to drive up car sales. (Just a side note: years ago when there was a bus strike in L.A., the late comedian Steve Landesberg said it was the first time in history there was a strike of a non-existent industry.)

If you want the full story about it, watch Roger Rabbitt. It’s closer to the truth about public transportation than you think.

Anyway, I write this as I sit in my office in Orange County on Friday night, getting ready to make the drive north. I can see the 405 out my window, and trust me, even with all the lights it’s not very pretty.

The trick to making the ride bearable, or something close to it, is to arm yourself with a few things that can help distract from the congestion, and even make the trip go a little faster.

Which is why I have a nice car, E Street Radio and a carpool partner.

Bobbleheads

I had a decision to make about what to call this post. It was either going to be Bobbleheads or Asshats. Either one would’ve been just as applicable, although I suppose the one I chose is more specific.

I was driving – and when I say driving I mean crawling – to work today on the 405 which, for those of you outside of L.A., is the world’s biggest parking lot. Kevin and Bean on KROQ were pretty funny this morning (especially on their phone call with “Justin Bieber”), so I was looking around at my fellow gridlock victims to see who else was laughing. What I saw was more than a few of them bouncing their heads up and down. And not because they were laughing.

It took me a second, but then it all made sense. They were texting or reading texts while they were trying to drive.

Alright. Asshats.

Suddenly the 405 was even more frightening than usual. While these human bobbleheads were busy with their smartphones (something something about phones smarter than the people using them), I saw more than a few of them narrowly avoid rear ending – and not in a good way – the car in front of them.

There needs to be some kind of “Idiot Behind The Wheel Texting” hotline where you can report these lamebrains. Of course, it would only be available to cars with Bluetooth and voice-dialing.

Or maybe a Megan’s Law kind of website where texting-while-driving offenders have their pictures posted, along with the messages they were texting when they ran into the car in front of them. Just to make sure they're really put to shame, their driver's license photos would also be posted.

Texting fines have to be jacked up. Like the carpool lane fines, their wallets need to hurt if they're caught. Or even better, a mandatory night in jail for being a threat to every car on the road ahead of them. That'll give 'em something to text about.

I don't like it any better, but at least the nose pickers keep their eyes on the road.