Los Angeles might have the weather of Eden, but instead of being home to two naked people, there are nearly 4 million here, only some of whom are naked. Those 4 million individuals create traffic so dense and soul-crushing, it gets end-of-times nicknames such as Carmageddon. Traffic never sleeps in the City of Angels.
Even the countless planes that are lined up to land at LAX are stuck in traffic. Elevated freeways crisscross the city and ensure that there’s literally traffic on top of traffic. If you enjoy driving and are in something resembling a sports car, it’s perdition. At best, it’s a waste of gas.
Freedom from L.A.’s congestion isn’t far. Just a few miles north of downtown are the San Gabriel Mountains and the desolate road that tattoos the peaks with blacktop. Begun in 1929 but not completed until 1956, the Angeles Crest Highway rides the face of the San Gabriels as it twists through the Angeles National Forest for 66 miles. There’s no better place near L.A. to burn fuel.
But even this road is not immune to commuters, as every weekday morning a stream of cars pours over the mountain and into the city from suburbs in the high desert. But if you’re escaping L.A. in the day’s early hours, nobody will bother you