Wrong Turn

   The Southern California freeways are a mythic and boundless region, a whole other country.
   Praised and reviled in song and story, the primary setting for a couple of much-remarked novels, an evergreen subject of dinner party anecdotes, freeways are integral to both our landscape and our lives. Freeway chases are covered – start to end – by local TV news teams and avidly watched by chase afficianadoes, at least one of whom has programmed his pager to alert him when a chase is underway so he can rush to watch it. One of the highlights of the O.J. Simpson drama was the “slow chase” on the freeways.
   When the freeways are running free and open, they’re an exhilerating ride. When they’re jammed up, they’re a nightmare. There’s nothing quite like sailing up over the Sepulveda Pass on the 405 and catching that first glimpse of the Valley sprawled out in front of you. Nor is there anything comparable to cruising east on the 10, rounding a curve and seeing nothing but brake lights in your future.
   Our freeways work as well as any invention of man’s – except when we overuse them. But now the State of California has ordered a change. Beginning this month, it’s going to spend about $30 million and three years, adding numbers to all the freeway exit signs. On south-north freeways, exit numbers will rise from zero at the Mexican border, while on east-west routes numbers will begin at the Pacific Ocean.
   Advocates of numbering include the federal government, which has long required exit numbers on the interstate highway system, Governor Gray Davis, the California Highway Patrol, the Automobile Club and almost everyone else.
   Numbered exits may make it easier for drivers unfamiliar with the L.A. nation to find the exit they’re looking for -– which, theoretically, will make it easier for the rest of us, as we won’t have to play dodge ‘em with drivers who suddenly veer right across three or four lanes of traffic in order not to miss their off-ramp.
Still, we do not relish the notion of such storied exits as Mulholland, Laurel Canyon, Buena Vista, La Brea, Orange Grove and Central Avenue being reduced to numbers. Nor do we fancy the elimination of chance encounters. As inveterate freeway explorers, we are fond of exiting randomly.    Given the endless shocks, thrills and revelations that abide in the freeways’ long, warm shadows, people who take the “wrong” exit may lose a little time, but they may also see things they might otherwise never see -– and that is almost always a good thing, because if Los Angeles is made of anything more than light and air, it is made of serendipity, and to miss that is to miss not just an exit, but the whole damn point.