Open Road

“I think that travel comes from some deep urge to see the world, like the urge that brings up a worm in an Irish bog to see the moon when it is full. "  --Lord Dunsany   I like to call myself a reformed desk dweller. Life used to be spent behind a slab of wood. My spirit was yearning for more. Much more. My adventure across the vastness of one-thirdof the world's surface is another small way of reminding myself of what the world has to offer. By swapping my desk for a life of adventure I wanted to make a statement.

CINCINNATI — The Angels' season-opening trip to Cincinnati and Texas is doubling as a Josh Hamilton reunion tour. Hamilton, a 31-year-old outfielder who signed a five-year, $125-million deal with the Angels in December, made his major league debut in Great American Ball Park almost exactly six years ago, appearing as a pinch-hitter for the Reds against the Chicago Cubs on April 2, 2007. His first big league hit, a home run at Arizona, came eight days later. Hamilton went on to hit .292 with 19 home runs and 47 runs batted in as a rookie for the Reds, who traded him to Texas for pitcher Edinson Volquez the following winter.

The first question my well-meaning acquaintances ask is, "Do you take that thing on the freeway?" Since that thing is a 1.2-liter engine on two wheels and a 600-pound body, that's actually a rather silly question. But I know it's only a warm-up for what's really on their minds: "Are you one of those who cut in between cars?" Yes, I am. And I'm aware - even without the disapproving tone of the question - of the emotions I raise when you see me in the rear view mirror, or worse, become aware of my presence as I cross the plane of your windshield: momentary panic, then relief, and last, outrage.

Re "On 2 wheels, it's open road," Column, Jan. 19 In his justification for motorcycle "lane splitting," Doug Smith writes as if all motorcyclists are supremely careful drivers. He ignores the numerous hazards this practice poses to automobile drivers. If Smith wants to take his chances of becoming road kill, he might want to consider the consequences to drivers who are unable to see motorcycles in their blind spots. Motorists who end up harming lane splitters have to live the rest of their lives knowing they changed or even ended a precious life through little fault of their own. Lawmakers must take a serious look at the number of accidents and fatalities resulting from this practice of beating traffic.

Somewhere there's a road that winds out of the calamitous city toward a place where the mountains rise to meet the sunset and only a rustle of wind breaks the stillness. It's a road which, like Bali Hai, calls from the distance of one's imagination, a soft and tantalizing whisper that talks of adventures never before taken and a serenity never before experienced. The lure of the open road is a compelling one.

DISEASES associated with travel ? SARS, bird flu, malaria ? grab most of the media attention and can trigger anxiety. But did you know a road accident is more likely to hurt you, especially if you are traveling in a developing country? That's true whether you are the driver, the occupant or even a pedestrian. Worldwide, about 1.17 million people die each year in road accidents, according to the U.S. State Department. That includes about 200 U.S. citizens killed in such accidents abroad.

It's 9 a.m., and the toilet seat is, predictably, up at the Shell station in La Canada Flintridge. It is Sunday, sunny, warm. Perfect riding weather for the (predominantly male) motorcyclists making their pilgrimage up Angeles Crest Highway, where they will power through scores of turns over several miles at ever-increasing altitudes.

"I sure wish I had a favorite philosopher," sighs Angel, a habitual lynch mob target poised with a noose around his neck. "I could sure use one now." Couldn't we all? The precarious perch between life and death in which Angel repeatedly finds himself starkly mirrors the human condition in the late Steve Tesich's "On the Open Road" at the Stella Adler Theatre.

A backcountry byway is just what the name implies: the road less traveled. In 1989, the U.S. Bureau of Land Management dedicated the nation's first scenic byway, Wild Horse Canyon Road, in the East Mojave National Scenic Area. About 100 miles east of Barstow, the horseshoe-shaped gravel road winds 11 miles through the heart of the desert wonderland, crossing wide-open country dotted with cholla and, in April and May, delicate purple, yellow, white and red wildflowers.

Born in St. Petersburg, Russia, and educated in Athens, Ohio, and Santa Barbara (where he now lives), Dimitri Kozyrev is an artist whose first solo show in Los Angeles consists of a series of great American road paintings. Although road movies are a staple of the film industry, road paintings are an art history anomaly, probably because images of highways and back roads are ordinarily thought of as landscapes.

The first question my well-meaning acquaintances ask is, "Do you take that thing on the freeway?" Since that thing is a 1.2-liter engine on two wheels and a 600-pound body, that's actually a rather silly question. But I know it's only a warm-up for what's really on their minds: "Are you one of those who cut in between cars?" Yes, I am. And I'm aware - even without the disapproving tone of the question - of the emotions I raise when you see me in the rear view mirror, or worse, become aware of my presence as I cross the plane of your windshield: momentary panic, then relief, and last, outrage.

One of the most buzz-worthy titles at this year's Sundance Film Festival is already off the market. "jOBS," the festival's closing-night film starring Ashton Kutcher as Apple founder Steve Jobs, will be released by Open Road Films in April, the independent distributor said Thursday. Open Road, co-owned by movie theater chains AMC Entertainment and Regal Entertainment, will handle the release in the U.S. and Canada on behalf of Five Star Films, which financed the movie.  The film follows Jobs' life from 1971 through 2000, and much of the picture was shot in the garage where the late entrepreneur first launched Apple Inc. in Palo Alto.

Published in 1968, “The Bikeriders” by photographer Danny Lyon documents his time as a member of the Chicago Outlaws Motorcycle Club. You know the type: the too-cool-for-school greaser with the black leather jacket, the tattoos and the slicked-back hair. Our fascination with these rebels never seems to grow old, from “Easy Rider” (said to be inspired by Lyon's book) to Fonzi to “Sons of Anarchy.” Taking us back to the source, the exhibition at Duncan Miller Gallery reveals Lyon's images to be predictably cool; they are also surprisingly charming.

Regarding "Death or Illness: Airfare Refunded?" by Catharine Hamm [On the Spot, Nov. 4]: As infrequent travelers, my best friend and I signed up for a trip to New York City some years ago. Travel insurance was offered, but we weren't sure we'd need it. After much thought, we went with it. We were surely glad we had. The last thing we expected was for me to end up in the hospital just a week before takeoff. The company we dealt with was great. We had complete refunds. "Nonrefundable" means taking a big chance, so you really need to weigh that concept against insurance.

"A poet," Louis Simpson once wrote, "should wish for enough unhappiness to keep him writing. " Simpson may not have wished for trouble, but he kept writing for 60 years - spare, powerful poems about war, infidelity, suburban alienation and other modern ailments that brought a Pulitzer Prize and wide recognition as a perceptive, if cynical, analyst of the American dream. A native Jamaican of Scottish and Russian descent, Simpson died in his sleep Sept. 14 in Stony Brook, N.Y. He was 89 and had Alzheimer's disease, said his daughter, Anne B. Simpson.

NEW YORK -- L.A.-based designer Rozae Nichols and her partner John Parros showed their spring-summer 2013 Clover Canyon collection Wednesday at Lincoln Center. The print-based line, which is designed and produced in L.A., debuted a year and a half ago, with most pieces retailing for less than $400. And the cheeky fun collection couldn't have been more perfect for this prints-crazy season. Photos: New York Fashion Week celebrity sightings The inspiration: Road tripping in the American Southwest from Monument Valley to the surf of Baja Mexico.

Magic Johnson dreams of owning his own team now that his NBA playing days are apparently over. Michael Jordan dreams of hitting the pro golf circuit after he has taken his last shot for the Chicago Bulls. Many NBA stars just dream of kicking back on the pile of money they have earned and relaxing for the rest of their lives. Karl Malone is no different. The All-Star forward of the Utah Jazz has his own special dream for the future. He wants to be . . . a truck driver.

When this truck pulls into rest stops--Ralph Lauren's Double RL Truck shop--even truckers' heads turn. On the outside, it's an 18-wheeler brightly painted with a herd of wild horses running across the side. On the inside, it's a Ralph Lauren shop on wheels--stuffed from floorboard to ceiling with Lauren's newest collection of men's jeans and casual wear. It comes complete with vintage American memorabilia, four fitting rooms and a sales staff of seven.

“I think that travel comes from some deep urge to see the world, like the urge that brings up a worm in an Irish bog to see the moon when it is full. "  --Lord Dunsany   I like to call myself a reformed desk dweller. Life used to be spent behind a slab of wood. My spirit was yearning for more. Much more. My adventure across the vastness of one-thirdof the world's surface is another small way of reminding myself of what the world has to offer. By swapping my desk for a life of adventure I wanted to make a statement.

The pursuit began somewhere in Fountain Valley. Authorities said she had been spotted siphoning gas. They chased her as she zigged and zagged on the northbound 405 all the way to Culver City where they finally nabbed her. The photo of her arrest was splashed across several columns of this newspaper. Her blond hair was mussed. Her face clinched like a fist. Her legs dangled off the ground as law enforcement carried her away. And I'm pretty sure I know exactly how she felt. Her path that day earlier this month was nearly the same as the one I've been making daily for months: Washington Boulevard to Harbor Boulevard.