I'm in Iowa, and every car on the road has rust. Due to that. I spent 2 months in Foster City during the lockdown at a gig, stuck in a hotel room, driving to a

I'm in Iowa, and every car on the road has rust. Due to that. I spent 2 months in Foster City during the lockdown at a gig, stuck in a hotel room, driving to a large empty building to do firmware porting on a bench. One morning I walk out fiddling with my keys, went around the back of my truck and saw a pile of pipes behind it. Wha? It was the pickup truck parked 2 stalls down from me. Burned during the night. Utterly consumed. No rubber on the rims; just naked metal. The seats were just springs. The license plate a melted blob. The engine on the ground. Broken in half, the cab tilted forward at a crazy angle, the bed tilted back. Sucks to be that guy! I thought. Then turned to my truck. The left side was melted like a Dali painting, the mirror drooping down, the running boards spilling onto the pavement in strings and puddles. The lights were foamed-up weird sculptures sticking out like alien apendages. Anyway 6 months later all the parts had arrived and it was repaired and I went back out to drive it home. My baby! So now I drive a truck that's new on the left side, but a rusted Iowa clunker on the right side. Works for me; I get in the left side so I see that. Still not feeling the love, California.