| Don't believe what my fiends have said about me: I do like to travel.
Oh sure, I'm still scared of dying, but I sort of like driving,
especially now that car phones aren't punishingly expensive.
Especially if you only use them to report to the Highway Patrol the
fact that the driver of the 18-wheeler following you is indicating in
various ways that he would like you to have his children -- either
that or he wants to make pottery with you, neither of which is an
activity you'd enjoy. But this doesn't happen very often, and so
driving is usually OK.
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