In the beginning, there were gas stations. And the gas stations sold maps. Great big, unwieldy folding out things. And it was good. And then the people created "motor clubs" and "Associations" and they give you made-to-order trip-tiks with detailed routes. And no one stared at their phones.

Aw shucks, guys, you somehow left out his Memorial Day message from this morning. Here, I'll fix it and as my Dad's kid brother was a B-29 pilot who died in training in July, 1945, I can't tell you how much this meant to me.