Living in L.A. without a car is a physical disability.

People certainly treat you that way. Today, I went to McDonald’s and was completely out of breath. An obese man nearby was too, his T-shirt drenched in sweat. Upon asking, I found out that he had to park his car across the street and walk all the way there. He asked me the same, and he learned I had to walk all the way there from home, because I didn’t have a car.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know.”

I nodded, out of politeness. He continued studying my carless body, and said, “I know I shouldn’t be asking this, but I’m just really curious. What happened? I mean, did your car get stolen? Or maybe it was towed for illegal parking?”

I grunted, making sure he knew I get asked that all the time, and said, “No, I just never had one.”

“Oh, a birth defect, huh?”