When my head gets crowded and my spleen gets to roiling, I don't head for the medicine cabinet. I head for the road. Nothing in life has ever cured me so often or effectively as a ribbon of asphalt that begins anywhere and ends somewhere else.

Today I alit from the river town of Selinsgrove, Pennsylvania, found a rural route with a serpentine bent, and set the accelerator to "real slow." This is a winning formula for me. Sure, it's slow going and the stoplights are many, but sooner or later I encounter an oddity that sets my mind straight. God bless this great big goofy country.

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