Sorry to be late to the party. I missed at least two Orange Line accidents, including one on The Worst Stretch of Road in the Entire East Valley, which is today's pet name for Kester Avenue between Victory Boulevard and Oxnard St. I swear I saw a llama crossing the other day, along with various and sundry produce trucks, bicycles, pedestrians AND Orange Line buses.
Never mind all that. My car is dead. Whenever I go under 1/8 of a tank, it won't run on a cold morning, so it's parked a block away from home awaiting gas. Me, I've got plenty, but nothing that can run an automobile. Ilene gave me a ride this morning, but it's me and the MTA on the way home. Even though I'm hot-blooded (check it and see), Ilene wisely insisted I take a jacket, a garment I've pretty much dispensed with over the last few years (that along with anything long-sleeved, since the Daily News' windowless megabox in Woodland Hills maintains a constant 73 degrees year-round).
After the original hoopla died down, I knew it would take auto-related desperation to get me on the bus. Newly minted daily Orange Line rider and Daily News cops reporter Josh Kleinbaum is NOT riding the bus today, so I will be representing, as it were.
Notice how you can deflect the absurdity of a white guy using rap phraseology by following it with as it were? Trust me, you can. Peace out, as it were.
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