“Marlin! Why haven’t more of your entries been about Science Fiction?”
Hush, child. I’ll get there. Just a couple of days more and you’ll have more of me gushing about the convention than you can stand. Until then, however, I’m thoroughly entranced by the lure of the open road. Plus, some of my favorite episodes of The Twilight Zone revolve around road trips that go awry. I know better than to fall prey to any diner fortune telling machines.
I will, however, willingly give myself over to the long distant echoes of Coopers, Lotus, BRMs, Chaparrals, and the like. Hopefully out of the corners of my eyes I’ll espy the fleeting shades of Jim Hall, Mark Donahue, Jacky Ickx… Yes, I know they’re still around, but surely the alchemical combination of blood, gasoline, sweat, motor oil, tears and adrenaline they’ve poured into can invoke their presence. Did Steve McQueen ever race at this place?
By some stroke of genius, some uncanny alignment of the stars, the kindly old ladies at the AAA have the midpoint of my drive going through Watkins Glen N.Y. I stared at the map in disbelief, and then danced around the house in joy. Lunch at the Glen. I’m still grinning.