The left turn light at Topanga/Roscoe is a long endeavor as everyone is trying to get on Topanga to get to the 118 so they can start their rat race of a day. I had already waited through two lights and was second in line when I spotted the ambulance headed my way. All my mind could muster was the thought that I hope the bastard does not cause me to miss my light, and to my immediate delight he didn't. For what seemed like an eternity he stayed in my intersection until he realized the coast was clear, the ambulance then proceeded West allowing me to make my turn North. Only two cars were able to make the turn, I grinned with mad glee as I headed up Topanga, having saved 2 minutes off my commute. A major victory in life.
Oblivious to the fact that the ambulance headed West on Roscoe was probably on route to pick up someone whose 83 years of life had expired into oblivion at one of the local rest homes. Someone who had nobody around other then those also waiting to expire into the netherworld. Someone who had been a Dodger fan his whole life, someone who had watched Cliff Lee's putrid performance, someone who's heart could not handle the truth of the San Francisco Giants winning a World Championship.
How many Dodger fans did Cliff Lee kill last night?