The first car he slept in, when he was 6, was his mother’s white Cadillac, parked in South Los Angeles.
Angel Macias, legs crossed, dozed upright in the back seat. His older brother, Armando, sat next to him, often against him, because he needed to stretch his legs to sleep. Their mother snoozed up front, in the driver’s seat.
After that car was impounded, home was a series of stolen cars, so many that they blur in Angel’s mind. Ten years later, he can’t recall how many, what kinds, what colors.
But for this new high school graduate, one detail stands...