This post is going to be very short because my hands are still shaking from driving in California. Here’s the rule of thumb for speed limits here. Whatever the posted speed limit is, add 100 mph.

In Oregon, we pretty much look at the signs, look around for the cop who‘s probably  hiding close by, and then venture a few miles over the limit to show our independence knowing we‘re safe.  In California, everyone goes so fast that the cops would have to be Santa and be a thousand places at one time. No cop could catch all the speeders.

For one thing, there are about 14 lanes of traffic everywhere, and all the lanes are full of people breaking the sound barrier and changing lanes constantly to do it.  Add to this the fact that some of the roads could use a little repair, and no policeman would risk his or her life running down one lousy speeder who will probably out-maneuver and outrun him or her anyway.

I hunkered down in the left lane because the other lanes were full of potholes and grooves in the pavement. I couldn’t get my car to go too much faster than the 70 mph limit, but I was terrified of all those other lanes. The California people didn’t like me plugging up the official “passing” lane and came up and nudged me from behind, flashing their lights for emphasis, as if to say, “Get your hick-ass Oregon beater off the road or drive it like a man.”

I made it alive to my nephew’s house after 957 miles, and I am going to go to bed and hope I don’t dream of maniacs swerving in and out in front of me and running me into ditches.

The only good thing about the whole trip was passing other Oregonians on their way to the Rose Bowl to see the University of Oregon Ducks play somebody for the championship of the world. That’s why I’m here with my daughter – but there better be public transportation because I will NOT get back in my car again and drive here. Anybody want to tow my car back to Oregon for me?