The Bird scooter, recently ubiquitous on the Westside. You book one like an Uber, find it on your GPS, ride it to your destination, or until you get bored, or until the battery runs out, then you leave it on the sidewalk. Then the next rider hops on. A lotus eaters version of the Russian Army in Stalingrad sharing the rifles.
The future of rideshare in Los Angeles? I guess we’ll know Van Nuys has truly arrived when the Bird gets here. Or we’ll know the Bird has truly arrived when it reaches Van Nuys.
Like, for example, the Barbie PowerWheels SUV with 12-volt motor, speakers, and faux leather seats. This is the status and consumption marking kind of thing we love in girl-centric suburban America.
Until the older brother gets ahold of it and strips the drivetrain trying to spin donuts in the driveway. Then he and his friends throw it into the Pacoima Wash to rid themselves of the evidence.
All brightly colored plastic shiny things wind up in the Wash eventually, to be reclaimed and repurposed by the Favela. Grab and go. Leave it anywhere. Someone will be by soon enough.