My wife, who grew up near the sleepy beach towns of Jamaica, asks me every time we drive along PCH: who decided to put a freeway next to the ocean? Blemishing the very thing that makes California so famous? We Angelenos have grown used to the mayhem that happens along this famously fast stretch of road, and not just certain Ferrari Enzos sliced in half by crazed millionaires and careening jaunts by drunk neo-Nazi celebrities — crashes on PCH are a regular part of our morning commute. The road is another classic example of the Angelene Paradox: almost daily violence and road rage, but in an idyllic setting. Part of me wishes we could do a better job of living up to our laid-back reputation, but I know better. Hawaii has its traffic jams, for instance. Crime happens in the Bahamas. No place perfectly aligns with its ideal image. But couldn't we, you know, maybe try a little? See it narrowed!