Today and yesterday we have been snowless, or unsnowed – a heavy rain melted it all away. So when one of my friends in Los Angeles told me about driving to see the snow with her family, I was able to, with some nostalgia, remember when we did the same thing.

We’d all get into the car – my memory has the Isuzu Trooper, when it still functioned – and go up and up and up and up and up into the mountains until we arrived at the snow, usually a small patch on the ground. We’d get out, step in it, take a couple pictures, and then descend down the snail-shell spiral of the same road, back to the Valley, where it would be about 80 degrees. I think it’s key for people who live in insufferably warm places to do this, so that when your children grow up and move to Chicago, they can say, “Oh, yeah. That.”

Good times in warm climes. Another friend, recently returned from LA, reports that the hipsters there are wearing fur hats with ear flaps.

It’s so LA to drive to see the snow – if only because you need your car to do it.