I was stuck in a driveway off Sunset Boulevard, my right-turn light blinking timidly. A naturally cautious driver, I scooted out one inch at a time, watching as car after car flew past. Just when I felt the bleakest, when Los Angeles felt the most cruel, a brand-new bright red sports car came to a full stop, its driver waving me ahead of him and into the lane with a gallant sweep of his hand.
It was John Lithgow. Now, this might not seem so extraordinary, but consider this: That same week, another skittish driver of my acquaintance was Read more