Remember how I watched two artists work on restoration of a neon dragon from Grauman’s Chinese Theatre in a Pomona warehouse? (If not: read about it here.) One of them had a great backstory, a piece of modern L.A. lore involving a one-man fix to a troublesome freeway sign. The story has been documented many times, but it seemed worth revisiting because the perpetrator was right there in front of me, and because it’s so awesome. I set the story aside to run during the dead period of Christmas to New Year’s, where it occupies Wednesday’s column.