Pulling Over


At long last we meet again, and I suppose I feel like something of a stranger considering all of the blank pages between us as of late.

I’ve been on the road, up and down the streets of L.A., darting through the 101 Freeway, and so much more. As I mentioned not so long ago, my time away has been due to a super-secret assignment I got recently, which, at long last, is finally nearing its closing stages.

Now, while I can’t quite yet say just what the assignment was, what I can say is that it’s had yours truly on a vastly different rhythm from what I’m used to. For one, the assignment has had me driving like crazy! And in the process, I’ve left the bus and the rest of L.A.’s public transportation in the dust.

This means a lot to me, since for the majority of my life in The City I’ve ridden the bus far more than I’ve driven my own set of wheels, which has made driving a true adrenaline rush!

At first, sitting in front of the steering wheel felt like something of a mismatch, as if it was something I wasn’t supposed to be doing.

In turn, I got on the road looking like the pink panther, just trying to avoid any trouble by keeping up with the flow of traffic as inconspicuously as possible. I was a timid driver, who just wanted to get to his destination in a calm and delightful manner.

Fast forward through a few weeks later, however, and it’s a starkly different picture. While I didn’t become a race track driver, I certainly lost the timid attitude, along with any patience for drivers holding up the damn road!

Of course, I’m exaggerating a little here: I didn’t become a road raging python, but I learned to get on with the show despite the (many) hindrances that threatened to make my commute longer than I felt it needed to be!

And from there, I became just that with my city: another L.A. commuter.

And again, this meant a lot to me. After all, how much could I know about my city if I didn’t know what it feels to swerve through its curves?! And how much could I know about my city if I didn’t know what it’s like to be a part of its massive traffic jams?

Of course, I could always observe the traffic from afar, but to sit at the front-and-center of it is another matter! With this project, I was smack dab in the middle of the jam like everyone else: on a deadline, and just rallying against the clock in a wild and hastily formed daze of circles.

Now, finally, there’s some time to pause and reflect again. But unlike our time on the road, I’d like to catch up slow and in a manner that doesn’t put anyone’s life at risk!


With this in mind, please trust that you’ll be seeing a lot more of J.T. again soon! But in the meantime, please enjoy some safe travels! And watch out on the road, since you just might have to get outta my way!


With Laav,

Author: J.T.

JIMBO TIMES is about the heart of a nation, which begins with the heart of a woman. It was the 1980s, and hailing from the dusty trails of her pueblo of San Pedro in the mountains of Oaxaca, Mexico, my mom crossed over 2,000 miles to find work as a garment laborer in downtown Los Angeles. Shortly afterwards, she met my father. He had just escaped from a civil war in El Salvador and was working as a handyman for an apartment complex in East Hollywood. They were both in their mid-twenties when they met, and in 1989, they married to give birth to me and my brother, respectively. Ten years later, before my brother and I became teenagers, my father left. Heartbroken, but not overcome, my mom didn’t remarry, but chose instead to raise us on her own. It wasn’t the first time she had to start over. When mom was in the sixth grade, her father —a tradesman of el pueblo — was shot and killed by a jealous ex business partner. As the oldest of nine siblings, mom left school in order to take care of her brothers and sisters. She helped raise them alongside my grandmother for the next ten years, after which she'd leave for L.A. Today Mom's resilience is mine, which flows through JIMBO TIMES: a dedication to her and Los Angeles. J.T.

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