There were a few times up in Michigan when our entire family drove to Mississippi to visit my father's siblings. And we dreamed of making "good time." I never knew until much later in life that good time might be an important concept and achievement.
Two visions of the future collided on the doorstep of my Indiana town, Bloomington, this past week. One was a bicycle rider on a rails-to-trails bikeway, the other a semi-trailer truck hurtling down an interstate.