The Brief

On a recent spring Saturday, about 20 people gathered in a parking lot of a building off of Florence Avenue in South L.A. They each stood by a brand new, bright orange electric bike.

“How often do we get to experience electric bikes in South L.A.?” said Adé Neff, founder of Ride On Bike Shop in Leimert Park. “Electric bikes are all over the city. But they're not within South L.A.”

Until now. Neff is part of a coalition of community-based groups that helped launch a new e-bike rental program called South Central Power Up.

You can win your own electric bike by supporting local journalism during LAist's Spring Super Sweeps! Your donation now enters you to win great prizes like an E-Bike from Juiced Bikes, a brand new Lexus or $25,000 cash.

* Note: LAist stories are reported and edited independently of membership promotions

The program brings 250 e-bikes to South L.A., where, after a safety training, residents will be able to get an e-bike to take home for at least a month, and then they will be able to renew the bike for free, for the first six months of the program. After that, they’ll be able to rent them for a small fee that will be determined later.

It’s part of a growing trend to make e-bikes more widely accessible — e-bikes run at least a few hundred bucks, and more often are more than $1,000. And, most car trips we take are relatively short, so e-bikes can help replace those miles and have a significant impact on climate pollution as well as help folks save money on gas. The South L.A. program is modeled after similar programs in Pacoima and Wilmington.

Adé Neff, owner of a bike shop in Leimert Park and long-time L.A. bicyclist, is part of a coalition of community-based groups that helped launch the new e-bike rental program.

(

Erin Stone

/

LAist

)

The goal is to bring a climate friendly and money-saving mode of transportation to an area that lacks dependable public transportation, has disproportionate levels of air and climate pollution, and where high gas prices are particularly burdensome.

“We're offering opportunities to folks that will allow them to have more autonomy and agency over their travel and commute,” said Lena Williams, program director for People for Mobility Justice, one of the community-based groups spearheading the program.

Williams said they aim to serve street vendors and other entrepreneurs such as delivery drivers, and people who frequently use public transportation or walk or bike to get around, as well as folks who want to save on gas money, or just have some fun on a bike without the physical exertion of a traditional bike.

“There’s a place for e-bikes within our society and our communities,” said Neff. “I was on a bike for 10 years in L.A. — I didn't have an electric bike. And I was going from South L.A. to Santa Monica to Long Beach to Pasadena, downtown and by the time I got to my destination, I'm winded, I'm sweaty. Whereas, I can get on the e-bike and get to my destination and I'm not exerting that much energy.”

Lena Williams, program director for People for Mobility Justice, one of the community-based groups spearheading the South Central Power Up e-bike program.

(

Erin Stone

/

LAist

)

An e-bike tour of South L.A. 

But on this particular Saturday, the group is going for a ride on the new e-bikes to have some fun and learn about South L.A. and the long fight for environmental and social justice.

South L.A. resident Patrena Shankling, 62, came out to try the bikes with her 32-year-old son Lonnie, who joined from Bellflower.

“I want to get out of my car and get some exercise in,” said Shankling. “It's good for the environment, good for me, health-wise.”

She said she also wants to save money on gas.

South L.A. resident Patrena Shankling, left, and her son Lonnie, came out to try the e-bikes and have some mother-son time together.

(

Erin Stone

/

LAist

)

South L.A. resident and community advocate Blanca Lucio said she’s long used regular bikes to get around but this is her first time on an electric one.

“Tengo muchos años este usando bicicleta,” she said. “En mi comunidad, la gente siempre anda caminando, anda en el bus, entonces cuando yo llegué a vivir en sur centro, yo era la mamá que siempre llevaba a los hijos en la bicicleta, la dejarlos a la escuela.”

“I have for many years used a bicycle,” she said. “In my community, people are always walking, taking the bus, so when I came to South Central I was the mother who always took the children on the bicycle to drop them off at school."

She said e-bikes are one way to get around more easily and address air pollution, an issue that’s particularly important to her.

Community advocates Blanca Lucio, left, and Guadalupe Rivas hanging out before the e-bike tour on a recent Saturday.

(

Erin Stone

/

LAist

)

Zaakiyah Brisker grew up in South L.A. and only uses a bike to get around. She got rid of her car because of the financial stress of paying the car off, the registration, and maintaining the vehicle, but also because it’s better for the environment.

“When I started riding my bike, it was easier because I used to live in mid-city and all of the shopping that I would do would be in Culver City, which is a totally walkable neighborhood,” Brisker said. “Since moving back to South Central, it's been a challenge because this is not a walkable area. But I love riding my bike so much and I believe in the values of not harming the planet and not adding to climate change as much as possible, especially as it relates to hood areas like South Central.”

It’s one reason why Brisker is a communications associate at Strategic Concepts in Organizing and Policy Education, or SCOPE for short, a long-time civil rights organization in South L.A. and another partner on the project, and the launching point for our ride today.

South L.A. resident Zaakiyah Brisker stands beside new electric bikes that will be available to rent for free for community members through the new South Central Power Up program

(

Erin Stone

/

LAist

)

Turning points for justice in South L.A.

After a safety briefing and getting comfortable on the bikes in the parking lot, it’s time to head out on our ride.

The group listens to Williams discuss safely using the e-bikes.

(

Erin Stone

/

LAist

)

We get off to a rough start. As soon as we tried to cross Florence Avenue, an aggressive driver tried to nose through our line of bikes crossing the street — evidence of the dangers bikers face every day on L.A. roads, especially here in South L.A., which has some of the least infrastructure for bikes.

But we safely make it to our first stop — the corner of Florence and Normandie, the very spot where the 1992 unrest began.

Once we got off Florence and onto quieter neighborhood streets, everyone started to relax and have some fun. Soon, the party grew.

Juan Brown, 21, and his buddy decided to join us on their own bikes. They popped wheelies and did other tricks, riding alongside us as we and people watching from outside their homes cheered.

“I ride my bike every day,” Brown said. “For fun, to get around, everything. It's bike life all day.”

21-year-old South L.A. resident Juan Brown joined us for part of our ride.

(

Erin Stone

/

LAist

)

But he said dangerous drivers and the lack of infrastructure for bikes is a major, and sometimes deadly, challenge. He says he’s lost friends who have been hit by cars. But it hasn’t stopped him. He said that’s because of the community that biking provides.

Our next stop is Exposition Park, where we talk about how gentrification and housing costs around USC are impacting the community. Next, we head to a former oil drilling site that, after a decade of organizing, the community successfully got shut down.

A map showing the "hubs" where South L.A. residents will be able to pick up e-bikes as part of the South Central Power Up program.

(

Courtesy of South Central Power Up

)

We end our ride at Village Market Place off Vermont, which sells fresh, locally grown produce and other goods at an affordable price. And, by the way, it’s powered by solar panels.

The ride was 12 miles altogether, but all of us barely broke a sweat.

Our group rides towards Exposition Park.

(

Erin Stone

/

LAist

)

Each stop we made on our ride showed how the climate problem is really a justice problem, like how the racism and disinvestment that sparked the L.A. uprising is the very same disinvestment that makes south L.A. worse off when it comes to climate impacts such as extreme heat. And how the climate crisis intersects with food insecurity, and housing costs driving displacement and exacerbating financial stress.

But each stop also revealed the opportunity to turn that around — such as the former oil drilling site, which has been bought by a community trust that has the goal of turning it into a park with permanent affordable housing. Or how growing food locally is a way to boost health and resilience. And the effort to get e-bikes here and get more people out of cars and spur deeper investment in bike infrastructure and public transportation.

The threads tying it all together were the folks who have long pushed for these changes in south L.A.

Without infrastructure, too soon for e-bikes?

Throughout the ride, the lack of safe street infrastructure was glaringly obvious. It’s a problem across L.A., but more so in South L.A, where potholes are rampant, bike lanes are few and far between, and protected bike lanes are nonexistent.

So is it too soon to be pushing e-bikes?

“The streets of South Central are notoriously dangerous, whether you're walking, biking, driving,” Williams said. “But I think there is something super, super important about actually just taking up space — people being seen in this way that says, ‘This is what we're doing. The streets are intended to be multi-modal and we want to show the ways that we can coexist.’”

The slow progress on improving bike infrastructure has been a challenge that the e-bike lending program in Pacoima, Electro-Bici, which has now run for nearly three years, has also faced, said Miguel Miguel, policy director with Pacoima Beautiful, the grassroots group that is heading the project there.

“We're creating a program in a community where a program like this, the infrastructure for it, wasn't ever really thought of,” Miguel said. “It's almost like we're trying to paint the wall right before we fix the drywall. So some of the challenges have been like, we're offering this service, but how do community members now utilize the actual transportation network to be able to go from point A to point B.”

The Electro-Bici program received 100 refurbished electric bikes from the New York-based Shared Mobility Inc., which has provided "e-bike libraries" in several U.S cities.

(

Courtesy Pacoima Beautiful

)

The huge lack of even the simplest infrastructure such as bike racks to lock bikes at destinations like grocery stores is also a major barrier, Miguel said. But that hasn’t made the program a failure — far from it actually. Miguel said one big lesson learned has been that the “need” doesn’t always have to come before the “want.”

“This is an activity that community members have been asking for, for a while, but unfortunately there's some true income inequality issues that don't allow folks to have access even just to a regular mechanical bike,” Miguel said. “If we come into this first thinking we want to repair people's relationship with their inner child, we want to repair people's relationship with what it is to have a bike – I think that's what these programs are.”

Miguel said many of the folks who regularly use the e-bikes through Pacoima’s program are either on the older side or the younger side, and rather than only using it to get to and from work or run errands, they’re often using the bikes for exercise, or to go to the park, or just ride around with friends.

“This is an opportunity to have community members step aside from the day to day of working, of living in a city, and into just being a child for a while and just enjoy playing and healing through playing.”

Williams would agree.

“Biking is medicine. If we allow the fears to keep us from getting there, it's such a detriment to our experience,” Williams said.

So e-bikes may be great for saving money on gas and getting around sustainably (they can truly help lower climate pollution), but they’re also just plain fun. And having fun — experiencing joy — well, that’s an important piece of building resilience too.

Hollywood director Rob Reiner and his wife Michele Singer Reiner were found dead Sunday at their home in Brentwood. LAPD officials said they are investigating “an apparent homicide” at the residence, but declined to give additional details.

Their deaths were confirmed in a statement released by the family to the media — and in social media posts by L.A. Mayor Karen Bass and Gov. Gavin Newsom Sunday evening.

The family statement said: "It is with profound sorrow that we announce the tragic passing of Michele and Rob Reiner. We are heartbroken by this sudden loss, and we ask for privacy during this unbelievably difficult time."

A police officer blocks off a street near the Brentwood home of Rob Reiner and his wife Michele Singer.

(

Ethan Swope

/

AP

)

The Associated Press was among numerous media outlets reporting that sources, speaking on the condition of anonymity, said investigators believe the couple suffered stab wounds. The AP also reported the same source said investigators were questioning a family member.

Reiner, 78, became a household name playing Michael "Meathead" Stivic on TV’s All In The Family — but went on to eclipse that early success with a decades-long career in film. He directed dozens of movies including such legendary romantic comedies as When Harry Met Sally and The American President, as well as revived the art of the mockumentary with This Is Spinal Tap. Other beloved films include Stand By Me and The Princess Bride.

He was nominated for an Oscar for directing A Few Good Men.

Michele Singer Reiner, 68, was a photographer who met her husband while he was filming When Harry Met Sally. He said he changed the ending of the film after their meeting.

The couple have three children together. Reiner was previously married to the late Penny Marshall and adopted her daughter.

Reactions

Bass issued a statement calling the deaths "a devastating loss." She recalled Reiner for a career in Hollywood that spanned roles as an actor, director, producer and writer, but also as a political activist who "always used his gifts in service of others."

Reiner helped to create an early childhood education initiative — dubbed First 5 California — paid for by a tax on tobacco sales. He and his wife were also “true champions for LGBTQ+ rights,” Bass said.

Newsom also released a statement expressing heartbreak over the news, calling Reiner "the big-hearted genius behind so many of the classic stories we love."

He added: "That empathy extended well beyond his films. Rob was a passionate advocate for children and for civil rights — from taking on Big Tobacco to fighting for marriage equality to serving as a powerful voice in early education. He made California a better place through his good works."

Reiner’s father, comedy legend Carl Reiner, died at age 98 in 2020. When his father died, Rob Reiner called him "my guiding light."

This is a developing story. It will be updated as LAist learns more.

A Rolex Deepsea diver's watch can withstand water pressure at depths of more than 12,000 feet.

"Basically, the most bulletproof, toughest watch that Rolex makes," says Marshall Sutcliffe, who runs a popular YouTube channel on watch restoration.

But what about fire?

About seven months ago, Sutcliffe received an intriguing request from a viewer and his father to restore a Rolex that was recovered in the rubble of the Palisades Fire.

The watch's owner had lost everything, the two said, save for a husk of that 2015 Deepsea wristwatch.

" The idea of these fires, even though it was very much in my mind, was distant," said Sutcliffe, who lives in Seattle. "Getting something that came out of one of those fires and having it sitting in front of me was an emotional experience."

'It was annihilated'

A viewer of Marshall Sutcliffe's YouTube channel asked if he could fix a Rolex recovered in the rubble of the Palisades Fire.

(

Courtesy Marshall Sutcliffe

)

Even for Sutcliffe, the state of the timepiece was a shock.

 "It was annihilated  to a level that even I couldn't have imagined until I opened up the watch," he said.

The outside structure, despite having been cooked for weeks, was surprisingly intact. The case and the metal bracelet, discolored and ashen, were still there. The dial, too, had survived but was unreadable. Gone were the crystal, as well as the bezel with numbers that go around the exterior.

" My assumption is that [they] popped off because of the extreme heat," Sutcliffe said.

Then he went in.

The movement of the Rolex was all but unrecognizable.

(

Courtesy Marshall Sutcliffe

)

" I had a little bit of my brain thinking that maybe part of the movement inside would've survived," he said. "I don't know why I thought that."

Some of the metal had melted into other parts, morphing into one big rusty gunk.

"There's basically no moving parts anymore left," he said.

One of Sutcliffe’s biggest challenges in the restoration was to get the movement itself out of the case.

"I  tried to undo a screw on it," Sutcliffe said. "It turned into a pile of dust."

Finally, he had to just dig into it, using the biggest screwdriver in his toolbox of tiny watch repair instruments.

"Piece by piece," Sutcliffe said. " They just flaked off."

After that, the rest of the work was relatively straightforward, but no less painstaking. Sutcliffe took a movement from a similar Rolex and replaced it wholesale. The other parts, he tried to retain as much as possible.

The movement of the Rolex was completely destroyed by the Palisades Fire

(

Courtesy Marshall Sutcliffe

)

Sutcliffe wanted to retain as many original parts from the destroyed Rolex as possible.

(

Courtesy Marshall Sutcliffe

)

What is original?

But that led to a philosophical question.

"You know, what makes a thing a thing, right?” he asked. “If you replace a bunch of parts on it, what does that end up being? What I decided to do was I kept every part that I could."

And there's one part he kept that carries special meaning.

In the middle of the restoration, an idea hit Sutcliffe to keep an inner ring of the Deepsea — a detail you can see but something that most people probably wouldn’t notice.

During restoration, Sutcliffe had the idea to retain a burnt, darkened inner ring from the original watch.

(

Courtesy Marshall Sutcliffe

)

Normally, that part is bright silver with black letters on it. The one on the damaged Rolex was charred to a dark brown, verging on black.

Sutcliffe contacted the owner.

"I asked him if I could leave that in there so that it could kind of be a subtle symbol to him," he said. "That he made it and it made it, and he's going to continue on.”

The owner agreed.

After the video of the restoration was posted, Sutcliffe got an email.

The owner thanked the watch repairer, telling him that seeing the Deepsea, a gift that was given to him, being slowly put back together was emotional.

Sutcliffe feels it, too. He still remembers first holding the watch with the marks of incredible destruction in his hand. After the monthslong process, he is struck by what it has now become — "functional again, beautiful again... ready to live a long life."

They say there are no seasons in L.A. That’s just wrong. There are, it’s just they don’t make any sense. In the U.K., where I’m from, the seasons are pretty predictable. A period of lots of rain (winter), then a little less rain (spring), rain when you don’t want it (summer) and back to lots of rain (autumn). And yes, as far as I’m concerned, it’s autumn. Not fall. Fall is a verb, not a noun.

But here in L.A., as I look up at a tree with maroon leaves next to a palm tree, it’s like someone picked up all the seasons and threw them up in the air and let them fall as they will. (See what I did there?)

So yes, in winter the air is cold, but the sun is hot. There’s hot chocolate and iced latte, sometimes at the same time. There’s woodfire smoke in the evening and lunchtime outdoor dining. Sit inside or out? Um, can we do both? Like my top half is in the sun, but my bottom half is in the shade, and then I flip like a burger?

A palm tree in downtown L.A.

(

Julia Wick

/

LAist

)

Newcomer confusion

It’s certainly confusing for new arrivals. We got here in January some years ago, leaving a cold rainy East Coast behind. I spent the first Sunday sitting at a beachfront cafe as the sun shone gorgeously down from the heavens.

But as we went down to the ocean, my then-5-year-old daughter looked about, panicking, and said, “Mommy, we mustn’t be here, there’s nobody here!”

I looked about and realized she was right. There was no one on the beach, even though it was pretty warm. Definitely as warm as I remember summer vacations being in the U.K., where you’d put up wind breaks on the sand and huddle next to them as the North wind blew across the beach and the sun apathetically glanced down every now and then.

“No,” I said soundlng like the love child of Mary Popppins and Steven Fry. “Come on! I’d have given anything to be on a beach like this as a kid! Lovely weather!”

So we walked along on the deserted sand as I shook my head at the waste of it all. These wide, wide beaches...and no one on them? These Californians need to build character. Make them go on beach walks when it’s below 70 degrees! It’s a shame, I said, shame.

Lying thermostats

Now I’ve been here over a decade and have acclimatized. I think going to the beach past November is the mark of a mad person, and I feel the cold in my bones. Not from the swirling snow outside, or from the freezing winds hurtling down a city block, but in my home. Yes .... it’s often colder inside than out. At least it feels that way. The thermostat cheerfully tells me it’s 71 degrees and I want to yell at it: “You’re lying! How is this 71 degrees when my feet at my desk are iceblocks and I’m burrowing my nose in the scarf that apparently I’m wearing indoors even though it’s blazing sunshine outside?”

Sometimes I need to sit in my puffer coat on top of a heater just to keep my body temperature higher than a reptile.

Look, I know it’s because they didn’t put insulation in most L.A. houses last century, and my feet are resting on a few inches of wooden floor and then nothing — just a massive hole in the ground — but it just seems odd. I go outside to warm up in the middle of the day, and turn my face up to the sky to absorb the liquid gold, and all is good .... until I go inside again and scream at the thermostat.

But a confused California winter season is still better than most other places. The air doesn’t attack you when you’re outside, like New York or Chicago. And snow is for mountains only. There’s no scraping ice off windshields, only a mild condensation. It doesn’t take 30 minutes to dress your kids when you’re about to go out, and you can get wonderfully sweet strawberries, freshly picked, at the farmers market. Or a persimmon. Or a plum. In December.

So as I head out in a fleece, shorts and flip flops to get wood for my fireplace while picking up more sun tan lotion, let’s hear it for SoCal’s crazy seasons, confused as hell and making it up as they go along — like most of us.

Los Angeles has plenty of world-renowned art museums, but you often don't have to stray far from the street to see interesting work.

One of them is housed on top of the parking garage sign at the intersection of 5th and Hill streets near Pershing Square. It’s been there since last Spring, situated right next to the familiar sight of deterrence spikes.

The big draw? It’s a restaurant for pigeons.

Six pigeons sit at the "Spike Cafe" on top of the Pershing Square Garage sign.

(

S.C. Mero

/

S.C. Mero

)

You can’t perch here

“ The project came about because I was messing with these deterrents,” said S.C. Mero, the artist behind “Spike Cafe”. “Some of the deterrents are human deterrents in downtown, to keep the unhoused population from sleeping in certain areas. It's essentially hostile architecture.”

Mero is a guerilla street artist based in Los Angeles. She uses the found environment of the city for whimsical storytelling, juxtaposing social issues with smile-inducing imagery.

In other pieces of the series, she put things like fake marshmallows, cheese and olives on the bird spikes around L.A, which led to the idea of "Spike Cafe."

“I’d just sort of had an idea like, wouldn't it be interesting, since they're supposed to deter the pigeons, if the pigeons instead had just set up right next to them and they were using the deterrents as a place to dine,” Mero said.

So Mero installed two fake pigeons: One with a top hat and the other with a hat made of straw. She fastened them to a strip of plastic deterrence spikes, then put that on top of the garage sign. She even fit the spikes with a fake feast of finger sandwiches and shrimp cocktails.

“These pigeons took something that was supposed to be, putting them down or keeping them away, and they flipped it and used it for something that was good.” Mero said.

High noon at the Spike Cafe

Mero considered the installation complete, but a couple weeks later while walking through Pershing Square she noticed one of her fake pigeons lying on its side. Her first thought was she hadn’t secured the sculpture properly.

But that wasn’t it. Mero eventually found out that real pigeons were landing on her sculpture. “They were dining at the Spike Cafe, but they were using my pigeons as stools,” Mero said.

Mero liked that real birds were appreciating her art, but she wasn’t thrilled they were damaging it. So she put spikes on her fake pigeons — which also didn't deter the birds.

“The pigeons just continued to land. They found a different little spot, like the head of the pigeon to land on. And I just kind of conceded,” Mero said. “I might as well just embrace it.”

Consider the birds

Mero took down her fictional birds. She added stools for the real ones, umbrellas for shade, and plastic strawberries and watermelon pieces for her diners.

Three pigeons at the "Spike Cafe" look down onto Pershing square from their resting places.

(

S.C. Mero

/

S.C. Mero

)

“It ended up being a very fun installation because I realized that it's even better when it's the actual pigeons,” Mero said.

So the next time you find yourself in Pershing Square, pull up a seat right next to a feathered friend at Spike Cafe.

Pigeons at the "Spike Cafe" pose for a picture while sunbathing.

(

S.C. Mero

/

S.C. Mero

)