Traffic rushes both ways on the 101 freeway in Los Angeles. Despite the rage invoked by hours of LA traffic, drivers can find small pockets of “sonder” in the stillness. Photo by Melissa Houston
I am a proud Los Angeles native. I was raised in this city. It was where I learned to walk, talk, drive and root for my favorite sports teams. But for all of its bright spots, LA has just as many flaws.
Los Angeles, despite being a bustling urban city, can be thought of as a human being — unique and special with many stories to be told. One of my favorite questions to ask LA residents is a simple one, yet always makes people pause: What is your favorite freeway in the city?
I love my city, and I take a lot of pride in being a product of Southern California. I grew up on the 405, driving from my home in Long Beach down to see my grandparents in Seal Beach. The 710 is the highway I take to get to my favorite place — Dodger Stadium — fittingly called Blue Heaven on Earth.
When I decided to come to Pepperdine for my collegiate career, I became more familiar with LA freeways than I ever had before. Being from Long Beach, it has become ingrained in my brain to take the 405 to the 10 and connect with Pacific Coast Highway until I get to Malibu.
These roads have become my safe space: a journey that always leads me home. Growing up on the coast has given me a deep appreciation for the ocean, so PCH has always held a special place in my heart.
But if you ask any true LA native, PCH doesn’t count as one of the city’s freeways. When you think about the traffic-clogged roads, you have to think about which highways go through the heart of our home.
As a kid, the 405 was my favorite freeway. I always knew exactly where I was and where I was going; it was as familiar to me as my favorite childhood book. As I grew older, my favorite freeway became the 10, conveniently referenced in Kendrick Lamar’s song “dodger blue.”
Art by Cara Tang
When I ask residents which freeway is their favorite, I realize why these roads have been mine. While I get overly frustrated with the endless hours of traffic, as every driver in LA does, I have discovered that these roads are the storytellers of the city.
Although being stopped at a standstill trying to merge from the 10 to the 405 or vice versa evokes those passionate emotions rooted in anger and impatience, these slow moments remind me to look around at the city I have always called home.
Los Angeles isn’t only my home — it is also home for nearly 4 million other people, according to the United States Census Bureau. The large majority of these residents commute via the freeways, allowing a unique experience to be shared through a group of people that may never meet.
The first time I heard the word “sonder,” I discovered why I had been so familiar with the term: it was the exact feeling I felt each time I drove in LA. The moments where anger is bubbling to the surface because traffic is adding an extra hour or two to my drive are also the moments I realize everyone around me is stuck in the same traffic.
Sure, I have somewhere to be, but so does the Porsche next to me. Similarly, the minivan behind me holding a family of five reminds me of my own upbringing, and I know they’re also off on their own journey.
As I try to keep my road rage in check, I remember that everyone else around me is going through the same experience, even if we have different destinations in the end.
These small pockets of reflection also show me the beauty and fragility of life itself. In 2024, there were 58,659 reported crashes causing death or injury in LA, with 653 traffic deaths accounted for, according to Amendt Law.
Every number is a person. Every crash is a family changed forever. Although the traffic in Los Angeles is more than just a universal annoyance, it also reminds us to slow down, look around and appreciate what we have while we still have it — it may be gone before we can say goodbye.