02.19.2008 - 11:19 a.m.

I put something like 1600 miles on myself this weekend. Flew out to Chicago with a friend, rented a truck, picked up a bedroom set for me and some tools and a riding mower from Indiana for him.

Leaving work last night, I realized I was driving with an extra awareness, as if the scenery were new and my car was not owned by me, but rather by someone who might sue me if I broke it. I kept reaching for the licorice--not Twizzlers, but real red licorice--that had gotten me through Ohio. I felt like my butt must be dragging on the asphalt.

I hardly missed home at all. I would make such a good trucker.

-stonebridge

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