Straight Into Compton

I bought a car in the USA. In fact, I bought a handful. Sounds crazy, but the idea is to cruise around something with some cred over Summer (regardless of how much I love the Belletts, let’s face it – they lack some cred), then flip them for a tidy return. This is The Plan.

And this plan calls for all sorts of travel co-ordination between myself, the sellers, co-madman Ross and, of course, the shippers. Who are in Compton. If you’ve never heard of Compton, let me tell you who has. Easy-E. Dr Dre. Ice Cube. The Crips. The Bloods. Gangstas. It ain’t no white boy neighbourhood. Especially it ain’t no white boy neighbourhood when he be ridin’ in a large, silver, 1960’s luxury gangsta automobile.

It seemed like a good idea; get the car from two suburbs away, avoid the mentally insane people on the interstate, then pull into the shippers on the outskirts of Compton. First up, we pick the car up from the seller’s grandfather and it is here I learn the car I’ve bought is not in the seller’s name. Say what?

I say to Grandpa, “So, how did he get it if it’s in someone else’s name?” and in a Hispanic accent he answers, “Who knows how he gets such things; I do not ask” and with a dismissive wave of the arm, he disappeared back inside. OK, so I’ve got the bill of sale, I’ve got the title; it all looks above board. Let’s just get to Compton through the back roads.

Of course, the great thing about LA’s freeway system is you are far removed from the gun battles, pimps, ho’s and other such undesirable elements. Respected socialites like Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan and Danny Bonaduce probably commute through Compton daily via the freeway system. But wafting through the ‘burbs in that part of town… you are right there. In retrospect, I should have probably have had my doors locked and affected some kind of intimidating facial tattoo, but I hadn’t and must have looked whiter than the White Queen in a snowstorm in Wonderland.

I did get stared at by some Mexicans… which I can handle. I kept the eyes straight and knew I had an escape route. This basically comprised of unleashing 460 cubic inches of Right Pedal Down and leaving two massive streaks of black rubber in my wake, hoping that anything or anyone still hanging onto the car would eventually be dislodged by the wind and the g’s.

Fortunately, no Plan B was needed and we passed through the area unscathed. It was only afterwards that Ross told me that at another intersection some Compton natives were eyeballing the Continental.

Of course, it’s easy to jump to conclusions. They may have been basking in its glorious study of late-1960’s straight line automotive styling or listening to the sonorous lope of the big block at idle… or working out a way to shoot me and take my shit that could be later integrated into a rap song. It could have been one, all or none of the above. I sailed that land barge into the shippers and breathed a sigh of relief so large it later manifested itself in Florida as a small hurricane.

But that was easy compared to the next job…

Cheers,


Dave

Great Rant Dave - got me chuckling (LMAO) on a Friday morning:


Neil

Good luck with the next job

Sounds like a mine field for a couple of "honkies". There is another gettaway line. If you need to engage verbally just say " We're from Australia". This will result in all round smiles, high fives, and "No S...t man !?!" (you hope).

B. Safe

Ohh forgot,.......Does'nt sound like you have a problem with hespanic Dave, but can you speak da lingo ?

I can't remember for the life of me what the next job was.

Hmm pending.

Cheers,

Dave

Oh yeah I just remembered. It was madder than a trip thru Compton, that's for sure.

I'll drum something up soon.

Please tell me that none of this is a surprise and that you went into this situation with a firm understanding that while most of the world is decent and safe neighborhoods, dotted by a few bad areas, Los Angeles is 500 square miles of slum, dotted with a few ritzy neighborhoods which are all surrounded by tall walls to keep out the scum.

I didn't have any problems in Pomona either, Bill.

My Mexican barman named Elvis now knows not to put straws in men's beverages because that's for sheilas (chicks).

Every little improvement is, indeed, an improvement.

americans love to think of their country as being the "leader of the free world", but if this is what the US view of the free world is, i'm happy keep our little corner of the world exactly as it is!

Keep in mind that three quarters of the population do not live on the east or west cost, and half the population lives in the Central and Mountain time zones (between the Appalachian and Rocky Mountain Ranges). And these people put very little thought toward anything other than getting by from one day to the next in places where things are boring and uneventful. Some of us live in nice neighborhoods, but have to travel through and do business in corrupt little municipalities where the crooked police are more of a concern than the criminal element.
But, then again, the national government still trusts us with gunpowder and bullets. And I would not want to live in a place where the government did not think I was responsible enough to allow me to have gunpowder and bullets, because I do not trust my fellow man and I trust some of the crooked municipal police officers even less.

If this gets any more political than a cheese sandwich, I'm shutting the gates.

Cheers,


Dave

Hooley dooley, It's apparent Bill doesn't like L.A. much!
I've put my thoughts in the train trip thread.
Yeah watch those cheese sandwiches, I hear you get 42 options if you ask for one over there!
You have nothing to fear but fear itself - you don't got that, you good.
Enjoy the rides
Matt.