AT AROUND 4 pm yesterday, I headed into battle. I climbed into the tank sitting in my driveway (you might call it a car) and ventured out into the hellscape known as Los Angeles traffic. Over the next 90 minutes, I covered 23 miles, a journey marked by creeping gains in ground, honking altercations, and endless frustrations. My average speed was 15 mph, my arrival a pyrrhic victory. And there was nothing special about it.
