my first time on the 110 freeway; or, i see death fast approaching in my rear view mirror

When I first moved out to the West Coast, I did not have the stereotypical Los Angeles experience. I lived in Pasadena and was walking distance to my school, my job, my church, the grocery store, various coffee shops, and most of my friends' apartments. I stayed in the area and rarely drove anywhere, seldom driving on the freeways.

One day a friend of mine asked if I could pick him up at LAX. Pasadena is a good twenty-five or so miles northeast of the airport, and though I had passed through there on multiple layovers I had never made the drive down; in fact, I had never really driven south of Pasadena at all. But I agreed to give my friend a ride, and make the sojourn down the 110 Freeway to pick him around 10:00 at night.

Now, the 110 is a pretty ridiculous road. North of downtown it is the Arroyo Seco Parkway, the United States' oldest freeway, and it hasn't really been updated in my lifetime. The roads and sharp and curvy, cut into a mountainside with no shoulders and very tight lanes. This doesn't faze most LA drivers, however, as people regularly zoom along the curves at ninety miles an hour.

Even worse, I hadn't realized when I agreed to pick up my friend that it would be raining that evening. Now, I feel confident in my ability to drive in the rain. I've driven in severe weather in Texas on more than one occasion, and rain in LA tends to be light (and this shower was no exception). What I don't have confidence in is the average Angelino's ability to drive in the rain. When it's sprinkling, LA natives either completely freak out and drive erratically, or they make no adjustments to their speed or stopping distance whatsoever, leading to great potential for skidding and hydroplaning. Add in the typical Angelino's penchant for aggressive driving and the tendency for California roads to develop numerous potholes after a shower, and I feel legitimately afraid to get behind the wheel when the roads are wet in SoCal.

So I had to drive down the 110 Freeway for the first time, at night, in the rain. Fun times.

I headed south and got onto the 110 - there's a southbound road called Arroyo that simply turns into the freeway past an intersection and suddenly you're in a 55-mile-an-hour going around a sharp curve. This was my first time, so I was unprepared. I was in the left lane, quickly trying to accelerate while maintaining control on the wet road, and cars start zooming around me to the right and a large truck revs right up onto my bumper. I desperately get over in the middle lane as soon as I can, and then I feel like I'm in a nightmare - headlights are zooming around me, dulled by the mist and road spray, and I'm struggling to keep up with the mysterious turns and curves. 

The drive was a frantic blur of mist and headlights. My heart was beating as I swerved around each bend, trying desperately to find a happy medium between a speed where I wouldn't spin out and a speed where I wouldn't get rear-ended. At some point I was out of the curves and in the midst of skyscrapers, but the cars and trucks kept zooming around me. I have no idea how I found the 105 Freeway and made my exit, but soon I was at LAX in a mob of cars, all trying to get to the curb.

I crept up to the pick-up zone and helped my friend load his bags. My heart was racing and I was sweating. He asked, "Are you OK, man?" I silently nodded and wiped my forehead with my hand. Great, now I have to drive back up through that madness, I thought in despair.

Now I live in the South Bay area and I've become quite familiar with the 110 Freeway. I've spent some time commuting both north-to-south and south-to-north on the freeway, and I'm probably one of those idiots who zooms by too quickly by now. But I always remember the time when the 110 was a mysterious monster, a beast to be feared.