Shortly after my hat-losing debacle from the last entry, I decided to walk home from the Hermosa Pier, and was nearly run over by friends Nick and Angie Liske as I crossed Pacific Coast Highway. What's strange about this (other than the coincidence of running into someone you know in the middle of a busy street at midnight on a Friday), was that it seems like every single time I have a car malfunction or am somehow in need of a lift, I run into the Liskes:
- When the Spacemobile went down in November, Nick was in the car. He helped push the Spacemobile into a local parking lot, where he called Angie, who came to pick us up.
- When the Spacemobile broke down for a final time in January, Angie was driving by on the 405 to see me marooned on the shoulder next to my crippled turquoise craft. She promptly called Nick, who called me, and offered me a ride. They were on their way to a wedding, but stopped by to drop me off a car.
- A week later, when I was still without a car and waiting for a bus in Inglewood, Nick drove by and saw me, and picked up his cell phone to offer me a ride. I would have accepted, but I didn't know he was watching me and I hung up on his call.
They are there so often that I'd start to think it was a conspiracy, except that I wouldn't know what the conspiracy was about. One thing is certain, though - they're always in the right place at the right time, with the right offer:
- When they saw me on PCH, they rolled down their window and announced they were going to In 'N Out. I immediately jumped in the car, gobbled a Double Double and ended up at seedy airport bar drinking 40 ounce buckets of Hefeweizen with Angie's 21 year old brother. A good cap for a strange night.
Yes, when the Liskes are around, things just seem to work out. Let's all hope they don't move to the Valley.