Drivin' 2: Electric Boogaloo

I’m back in the ‘boken after traveling well over a thousand miles in under eighty hours.  I’m crunchy.  I’m stinky.  And I’m still haunted by the fruity/chemical taste of the endless Bojangles and Diet Mountain Dew fueled burps that my brother consistently managed to blow into my open mouth every time I turned to yell at him.

It was a long trip.

Never fear, there’s ample fuel for at least three more blogs (and pictures and VIDEOS) based on the antics of my siblings.  I just don’t have the energy to cobble together coherent sentences today (as exhibited by the last sentence of that first paragraph).  Instead, I leave you with a song.  It’s one of Thom’s favorites.  I think it explains quite a bit.  And no, I don’t think I’m the son of God.  Thom might, though.

We started the return car ride with Thom asking, “What about you, Elly – did you suffer a crisis of faith or did you just never believe in God?”  Then we ended the trip screaming along to the lyrics of this song.  Let the psychoanalysis begin…

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