Does it seem at all ironic to anyone else to spruce up an environmentally friendly hybrid car with supple calfskin upholstered leather seats and burled walnut accents?

Today, gas was $4.15 per gallon. I was flabbergasted. I finally felt old when I reflected to myself that, when I was a youngish 16, gas was literally less than half the price. And, to add a little ironic whipped cream, I am watching the episode of No Reservations where Tony Bourdain visits Los Angeles.

My hometown, where it's a sin not to drive.

Dear L.A.,
I know that you think the halo of smog crowning your fair city is angelic, but it's not. Not that I'm a greeny tree hugger or anything. But if not for the sake of the environment, what about the sake of the economy? Can anyone except L.A.'s elite afford to navigate the hostile territory of the morning rush hour 405, 101 or weekend PCH? What about the '86 LeSabres being tailed by the Maseratis and AMG pkg Mercedes'?
Love,
Emily

Although, I may just be saying this all from the position of someone who doesn't own a car and HAS to try to enjoy Chicago's CTA. Although, I do actually enjoy it. Aside from the occasional crazy who bolts towards my seat with a fresh urine stain in his crotch, I like people watching on the el or the bus. Especially the bus routes that take me far from my home. Have you ever taken the 76 Diversey all the way to Narragansett? (Probably not. That's ok.) It is there and only there that I see men give up their seats for women, and young relinquish their chairs for old. It's amazing to see. Chivalry isn't dead. I have been on both ends, being the seat giver and the seat donor. Ironically, I am always on my way to or from community service when boarding the 76 (a few bad judgment calls involving whisky (spelled correctly) and, speak of the devil, cars), and it is then that I have an aura of wellness and good-Samaritan-ness enveloping me like a delicate smelling mist. Ask me for anything then. Ask me for the shirt off my back, and chances are that I will give it to you. Something about one good deed begetting another, I suppose.

So, I challenge you, one of probably 3 to five readers, go out and do a good deed. It's addictive.

I dedicate this digressive post to my sister, who, bless her black little heart, can't pass a homeless person without digging in her bag and giving them whatever she has. She gave away all her lunch money one week. True story. It's touching. Really. Touching.