The Screen Star

In response to the Post Daily Prompt:  ScreenXAAB1367

Back in Los Angeles, in 1956 or 57, one afternoon after school, when I was 14, I was peddling my bike going east on Pico Boulevard at about 5 miles an hour, at the most, to get to my Flamenco dance class, which was near La brea.  A man in a big convertible started driving slowly beside me.  I was in the right-hand lane and he was in the middle lane, which is suppose to be for fast traffic.  The man looked over and smiled at me and I smiled back.  He kept looking over and smiling at me for what seemed like a long time to me, but it was only a minute or two, maybe   This mustached-man wore glasses, a funny-looking cap and had a cigar in one hand as he steered his car with the other.  He was going as slow as I was on my bike and the cars behind him were starting  to form a traffic jam.  Angry people began to honk their horns.  He ignored them. He just kept smiling at me and ahead intermittently.  A car finally passed him in the far left lane,  while giving him a quick nasty look to see who in this big car was being such a nuisance.  When this driver saw who it was driving the car with a benign smile on his face, his face lit up and he yelled with his head out the window “Hi, Groucho.”   This little episode ended after about 1/2 mile when Groucho Marx sped up in front of me and turned right off Pico into Hillcrest Country Club.  He waved good bye to me.

I always thought this as my Groucho Marx incident.

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