A strange thing happened to me a few days ago. I was driving home from work, taking the same peaceful route I have for the past five years. That is Xavier to Goose road to Clay lake. A very pleasant 35 mph cruise through farmland and pasture. After completing the first S curve I pushed the button to roll down the window.

"But I don't have automatic windows." I thought to myself and then, for a split second I was no longer driving Lucy, my dusty beat-up Neon. I was in a mud splatterd Ford Probe, my old car. I wasn't driving home to my hobbit castle either, but to a tiny cabin in the hills.

Wish I could say it was ordinary deja vu. Brr!