In LA Love of cars after wildfires, the remains of cars are deeply cut

Dozens of cars sat abandoned, covered in ash, along Palisades Drive near Sunset Boulevard in the Pacific Palisades neighborhood of Los Angeles. There are black boots on the side of a gray Subaru Crosstrek. Across the street, a pink bag with Sonya’s name on it was left in a Tesla Model X. Nearby, a box of family photos rested in a partially melted red Lexus UX.

To the east, in Altadena, dozens are still destroyed.

It is not yet known how many vehicles were damaged or destroyed this month in the Palisades and Eaton fires. However, for many residents, this aspect of the devastation is very personal.

Cars lost in the big city are not just a means of transportation that must have wheels. In Los Angeles, where cars are embedded in the culture, cars are also an extension of one’s home. A place to store two backup sneakers. A place to eat during your lunch break. A booth to call a friend when stuck in traffic.

Liliana Baqueiro, 18, lost her 2012 Honda Civic. It was his first car. The Eaton fire also burned his home in Altadena and his grandfather’s car.

Ms. Baqueiro and her family left their home before the eviction order was issued the night of the fire, thinking it was just a precaution and would return the next day. The only things Mrs. Baqueiro brought were her pajamas, her passport, her birth certificate, two dogs — Baby and Ángel — and her pet, Milo.

Two days after the fire in Altadena, Ms. Baqueiro was able to look at the rubble of her home. Seeing that his car was also wrecked made it worse.

“It’s like a second defeat,” said Ms. Baqueiro. His Civic was a gift from his grandfather, who had promised him for years that he would buy him a car after he finished school.

He was just starting to feel comfortable behind the wheel of that car. He has a learner’s permit, and is scheduled to take his driving test this week. Because his license was burned and lost in the fire, the exam was postponed. “It’s not the first priority right now,” he said.

For others, losing a car means losing a job.

Pablin Arevalo didn’t pack more than a change of clothes before moving, because he thought his home in Altadena was safe from the flames. The house where he lives with his wife and two children is also the center of the landscaping work.

Now, their home and tens of thousands of dollars worth of equipment are gone, and the property is covered in burnt-out work vehicles: two Ford Transit vans, three old pickup trucks and a Hino truck.

“All six were completely on fire,” Mr. Arevalo, 53, said in Spanish. “There’s nothing left – with all the equipment he had inside.”

He lost his rakes, dust blowers, string trimmers, lawn mowers, drills, jackhammers and a long list of other tools that he slowly acquired as his business expanded.

Mr. Arevalo is fortunate that most of his customers were not in Altadena. With 10 men in his employ and a lot of work to go around, he was quick to buy weapons and armor offered by his friends to keep him going. He drove all the way to Las Vegas to buy a truck from a friend.

Within a week of his house burning down, Mr. Arevalo made sure he and his team were back to work.

“They are part of my family, and they have people to support,” Mr. Arevalo said in Spanish.

In the Palisades fire-ravaged Malibu neighborhood, one car, a blue and white 1977 Volkswagen Type 2, was saved.

Almost everything around him is sold out. The house burned to the ground. In some areas, the smoke remains.

The owner of the car, 29-year-old Megan Krystle Weinraub, fled the day of the Palisades shooting. He sped away in another car, carrying his dog and his clothes. The car stopped behind.

“I thought it went too far,” Ms. Weinraub said.

Mrs. Weinraub’s house survived the fire, and she was surprised a few days later to learn from a neighbor that the van, parked a few streets away, was also fine.

“I’m one of the lucky ones,” he said.

Ms. Weinraub recently bought the car from her friend and business partner, Preston Martin, 24. He’s also relieved that it doesn’t matter, in part because he has a personal connection to it: It was his home during his senior year of college, leaving the escape on the way to Pacific Coast.

“Whenever I’m having a really bad day, all I have to do is turn the car from home to auto mode, drive on PCH and whatever problems I’m having that day it disappeared,” he said. “That’s the magic of this van.”