Are we there yet? By “there” I mean the edge of sanity. I want to be sure I don’t miss it when we speed past at seventy miles per hour, because by then I’ll be speaking in tongues. Wife and I are driving across the country, and so far we’ve logged about 1,700 miles. That’s 1,700 miles spent in a car with the same exact proportions as a life-sized Ford Taurus cake. Get the picture? Now imagine that the cake is actually made of metal, glass, rubber, and plastic, and contains two adult humans. Not so appetizing anymore, is it (not now, cannibals)? Instead of buttercream and chocolate ganache, we’re talking stinky feet, sweat, and a pinch of desperate boredom, to taste. Incorporate everything into a pot of country music/static and bake for nine days. Promptly remove contents from society and place in padded observation chamber until hallucinations and highway hypnosis subside. All kidding aside, Wife and I have had some lovely philosophical chats about life, death, and how Subway is apparently planning to take over the world. Seriously, we’ve seen more signs for Subway than for highway exit ramps. At this rate, we’ll all be taking road trips to visit all the Subways! See, there’s another one right there! Whoops, false alarm – I’m hallucinating.