The day started out simply enough. I drove down to the golf course at McGuire where a bunch of enthusiastic golfers were charging around on golf carts through the fog and trying to have a serious accident. As the fog burned off the carts slowed down – probably because it was now easier to see which senior officers were being the most childish. After a quick breakfast there I got on the road. My plan was to drive around
I wound through a series of single lane roads and passed through very small towns, just taking in the sights and not really paying too much attention to where I was going. It was a nice way to drive. Suddenly, without any warning it seemed, I was on the New Jersey Turnpike and with more cars in my view than I have ever seen in one place. I quickly turned into a petrol station located in the middle of 16 lanes of traffic pouring in and out of
As I took the apples back to the car a woman pulled up in one of those excessively large cars
In one of those surreal moments in this trip she then named a small crossroads of a town in
I threw the apples in the bin. They were terrible.
And to cap the day off – at least until I was driven out of my room (sorry “den”) by the sound of rutting army animals – I was picked up by the telephone operator. I had rung through to
So here I sit with the