If I can just get offa this L.A. freeway without gettin' killed or caught...*

Following up on my earlier post:

Ah, Grasshopper, does crick embiggen foto?

Lots more stuff to tell ya about but I'm tired again. Two days and I already need to get home from vacation so I can rest. Four days to go. I think I'm toast...

Later on down the road I'll tell ya how to get the voice in yer dashboard-mounted GPS, whom I call Miz Magellan, to cuss ya out and call ya names. Heh.

*Apologies to Guy Clark. While Mrs. G was at her conference today, I ran about 30 miles up the 710, the 10, and the 5 and hung out with my pal Dave. The freeways here move slower than I remember, mostly cuz they're in such bad shape. The only things haulin' any serious ass are Priuses. Heh.

Years ago, we used to call the freeways by their names, not their numbers like they do these days. After typing out the ones above, the Long Beach Freeway, the San Bernardino Freeway, and the Golden State Freeway, I unnerstand why they changed that - slows down the Sigalerts.

Thanks to JAZZCAF, UK.