SITTIN' BY THE DOCK OF THE BAY: When I was growing up, the big family summer vacation was almost invariably a long car trip, typically punctuated by side trips (sometimes lengthy) to see specific, yet ultimately disappointing, historical sites. (The 2.5 hour diversion so we could reach Montpelier and check off one more state capitol and the anticlimactic visit to Kitty Hawk were "highlights.") One of the many memories of those trips involves us trekking through the winding hills of Virginia to see Monticello. The road was windy and the car bouncy, and one member of my family (who will not be identified, since they read this blog) wound up puking in a plastic cup due to the ride, with the contents of said plastic cup disposed of out the window at high speed.
Why do I tell you this? Because I'm sitting in a hotel room in San Jose, CA, having had to do a deposition in Santa Cruz earlier this evening, and that drive made me wonder how common the vomit is on that route, which adds to the windingness pretty massive increases and decreases in elevation--while you start and end at sea level, you're a good quarter-mile high at points in the trip. (Also, is it just me, or does Bay Area radio kind of stink?)