Just roared into southern Oregon while ago after having left Tulsa on 5/26 and driving back in a car that’s new (to me.) Here’s what I learned: the term “Classic Rock” doesn’t always mean what I hope it will, nor what I think it should.

I also learned that I have kind friends across the nation who are willing to put up with me for a night and on very short notice.

One last thing I learned: driving across northern Nevada is unbelievably boring, despite the fact that the damp, salty sand of the Bonneville Salt Flats comes right up to the highway. Around Elko, Nevada, I began looking for that Tea Party darling, Cliven Bundy, hoping that I could run over him with my new car. Old Clive owes America a giant wad of money and it doesn’t appear he will be repaying us anytime soon, so I figured out this is one deadbeat we can do without. Alas, I didn’t see him, so I kept driving, hatching another plan. I know, I know, it’s not very Zen of me. Or Christian. Or even kind. But, as we all know by now, I hold a grudge. And road trips don’t bring out the best in me. Glad I am home. JS