Pablo Cruisin’


To our dismay, we discovered that there was no way two functional, career-minded adults could exist in Los Angeles and share a car. I was bumming rides from friends, and even considered trying the bus, something I did in 1990 after my infamous “I’m fucked and my life is over” car accident. But this city absolutely blows in terms of public transit for just doing errands, so Tessa and I bit the bullet and rented a car for a month.

Since my beloved wife lost her driver’s license somewhere in New Orleans (have fun buying liquor at the Verti Marte with your stolen I.D., “Tessa”!)

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