City of Angels

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Los Angeles, the city of angels. Angels perhaps but, men, women, sinners, saviors, false prophets and devils assured. A city like no other, a world all its own. A landscape of towns once isolated from each-other now, too big for their britches, each rubs elbows with the next. A land where the car is king; where a sense of entitlement rules supreme. Where anything can happen and, probably already has. A great place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live here.

By noon on Wednesday, December 15th, I had ridden through Malibu along the Pacific Coast Highway #1(PCH) and arrived int Santa Monica, the western edge of America’s most notorious mega-opolis. Watching the suits, the Porches and the crazies go about their daily business, I stopped for lunch while contacting Diana, a friend of my mother’s with whom I would be staying while in LA. With directions in hand, Irene and I were soon riding east along Sunset Blvd. And riding and riding and riding. For over 60kms, we rode east to the town of Whittier, passing the gates of Bel Air, the estates of Beverly Hills and the immense UCLA campus.

Having lived in downtown Toronto for many years, I am well-accustomed to negotiating my way through dense traffic on the bike.[in fact, it’s rather fun] good thing, since the cycling infrastructure throughout Los Angeles is virtually non-existent. Rarely did I see anyone but the poor riding a bike; never did I see anyone out for a ride as I did in San Francisco and, there certainly lacked the bike-messenger population of most cities. Those few who do commute by bike, however, certainly have a lot less cabs to deal with than their TO brethren.

A few notes on my time in LA: of the 7 days I was there, it rained six; the coffee is good, but not great; the Getty Museum is a work of art unto itself, never-mind the immense collection and the MoCA will make you think and laugh, just leave any prejudices at the door. Though I visited just one bike shop, it was the only one necessary.

Velo Pasadena is owned by a Hrach Gevrikyan, a former Soviet Union national cycling champion. He’s also a bit of gear-head; the shop doubles as a museum, full of 1970-90’s era racing bikes, components and other pro-peloton memorabilia. He and I reminisced shoulder-to-shoulder over one very special bike; Greg Lemond’s back-up time-trial bike from the 1989 Tour de France–one of seminal events in my life as a fan of pro cycling. And, if you can believe it, I only spent $100 while there!!