Right now I’m in the car with two screaming children. I’m somewhere on 81, probably in the endless stretch of green I like to call “Virginia.”Â I’m singing along with Patrick Bloom.Â I’m thinking about stopping the car to stretch my legs, eyeing the rest stops and wondering whether it’s time yet for “chicken donuts and fench fies.”
No. Not yet. Not just yet.
I’m in a hurry. Happy to be. On my way to see you. Homeward bound.