Procedure for riding in the truck with my uncle:
1. Get in.
2. Hang on.
3. Re-establish a close personal relationship with the protective deity of your choice.
Because uncle's truck apparently has two modes of operation:
1. Floor it.
2. Slam on brakes.
I like to think I'm a reasonably cautious driver. I mean, whatever the equivalent of "prude" is for driving, well, I'm not that, far from it. Maybe I've just been in Tucson too long, but I find myself thinking that, well, 35 mph in the Costco parking lot is just a bit excessive.
In other news, if there is a significant gay population in DuPage County, it hides itself well. In six days I have seen exactly one gay guy (working at Costco) and exactly zero lesbians. I didn't realize how diverse Tucson is, or at least the parts of the city I frequent, and after a week of not being in the comfortable company of people like me, I guess I'm getting a little twitchy. I go into the city a few days next week, so the ratio should change a little. And me totally out of shape. What can I say?