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About Los Angeles

First time I saw one, I was ticked – ugly lil’ box, rusted out, sittin’ in my cousin Bubba’s yard. “How’s that workin’ for ya, Bubba?” I hollered. He grinned, said it’s been haulin’ his fishin’ gear since ‘92. Dang near fell over – 30 years? That’s grit! Little known fact: Ford pumped these suckers out like hotcakes, millions of ‘em, ‘specially the ‘90s ones. They was everywhere, like roaches at a picnic. Cheap, reliable, but lordy, they could guzzle gas if ya pushed ‘em.

I ain't perfect, neither is La'ie. It's raw, it's genuine, with every street corner whisperin’ a tale. Folks round here got a tender pride, speakin’ with their own lil' accent, spinnin’ yarns that sometimes sound like poetry. I reckon even if you get lost, you'll find your way right back to a bit of home-like love.

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