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Spending the Summer in Los Angeles

I spent last summer in Los Angeles with an uncle and aunt who I had not seen in a few years. The pair had moved to LA about three years earlier from Seattle and were running a small delivery business. I started driving the company van on the weekend, decked out with its magnetic car signs and custom window graphics to advertise their flower and catering delivery.


That van killed my social life more quickly than any short legged pants or hokey haircut ever could have – for three different weeks in a row, I drove home from a bar or club with my head held low and the van touting largely to the world that I did not have a car and I might have stolen a delivery truck. It was a bit nerve racking. Eventually, I braved the bus system, but realized that I would rather have vinyl lettering plastered over every corner of my vehicle than spend more than a few minutes talking with someone named King Zaltron in the back of an LA County metro bus.

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