I seem to be doing a lot of driving these days. I think, actually, that this has always been the case.
When I was a kid, for example, I went on month-long road trips with my parents.
Both of my folks were teachers, and so they had the summers off. Sometimes, they would work to supplement their income. But in the summer of 1983, when I was 7, we took a massive Western states roadtrip. We went south to California, then east to New Mexico, and then north into Montana and finally, back to Seattle. It must have taken six weeks.
I remember, very clearly, driving through Casper, Wyoming at midnight and looking up and seeing a sign — illuminated by streetlights — that said: Casper. It was swinging slightly in the wind of a rainy night.
That’s one of my first vivid memories.