The Asphalt Jungle

I have this acquaintance--to safeguard his anonymity, I'll call him "Homer"--who drives a 2004 Mercedes-Benz SL500. This fact makes me more than a little envious of Homer. After all, the SL500 may well be the greatest aphrodisiac since the diamond-flavored Valentine's chocolate or the Lenny Kravitz backstage pass.

That said, I most definitely do not envy the price Homer has to pay to glide along in his SL500's rarefied cockpit. Each month, to cover his lease, insurance, and gas bills, Homer shells out more than $1800.

Illustration Troy Mendham

The thing is, Homer isn't rich. He inhabits a $735-a-month studio apartment in Burbank--a place so small that Verizon keeps trying to hang a pay phone inside. He wears cost-cutter suits that contain an alarmingly large percentage of unnatural fibers. And when he dines out, he's far more likely to drop into the local Red Lobster than to sup with Ashton and Demi at Spago.

Of course, you'd never know any of this if you saw Homer on the road. Out there, he's a master of the universe, ruling from the helm of one of the world's finest automobiles. Asked about this seeming lifestyle imbalance, Homer expressed himself eloquently: "You think I give a damn? C'mon. This is L.A. You either have a nice car here, or you are toast. I mean, I've had women beg me to take them out in this car."

Clearly, I was on to something. As anyone new to the city will tell you, the streets of L.A. are so awash with awesome automobiles that one's first reaction is to ask, "How did all these people get so bloody rich?" In truth, though, the parade of four-wheeled extravagance is largely an illusion--an example of life as Hollywood sound-stage facade. See, in this fair city appearances count. This, in itself, is not unique to L.A., of course. In New York, for example, it's possible to elevate one's status with any number of established hallmarks: a Burberrys trench coat, box seats at Lincoln Center, a gold-plated Mace dispenser. But in L.A.--that palm-lined jewel tied up in asphalt ribbons--the car is king. And many, it seems, will pay whatever it takes to ascend to the throne.