Drivin' and Cryin' — well, actually, just Drivin'.

Some random thoughts and observations from my drive from Fayetteville to D.C.:

- According to Mapquest, it’s 667 miles from my house to my apartment and vice versa. But according to my car’s odometer, it’s only 665. I’m considering writing a letter.

- The North Carolina Department of Transportation has earned my scorn and disdain for having the infinite wisdom to close two lanes of I-85 for five miles on the busiest travel day of the year, thus extending my trip by two hours. I’m considering writing a letter.

- I probably don’t sound as good as I think I do singing Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing.”

- I’ve only recently been getting into Jackson Browne, which is weird because he’s been around for like 30 years.

- For as much as we get blamed for everything, being born a white male in the United States is still the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. I appreciate my forefathers figuring out 400 years ago that Europe blows.

- I’m getting addicted to this pasta with pesto dish at a restaurant across the street from my office. At $10 a pop, this could become an expensive habit.

- I don’t care what anybody says. Reggie Ball still sucks. So what if he was rookie of the year in the ACC in 2003? That was before Miami and Virginia Tech entered the conference and the ACC was grading on a curve. Being rookie of the year in 2003 is like being the tallest member of the Lollipop Guild. Seriously, when your quarterback rating is only three points higher than Duke’s quarterback and you can’t count to four, you should be tarred and feathered in the public square.

- People often confuse a sense of humor with immaturity. This bothers me. Being able to laugh at things is a necessity in life. My dad has a sign in his office the says ‘Humor is to life what shock absorbers are to a car.’ I’m pretty sure it’s referencing some verse in the Bible. Or, to paraphrase Jimmy Buffett, if I couldn’t laugh, I’d probably end up killing myself.

- I’m such a stickler for grammar that I correct it in the songs I sing. I can’t stand words like “a’int” or verbs that are incorrectly conjugated. I cringe every time I hear the line in “Hey Ya” that goes “I wanna see y’all on your baddest behavior.” Yes, I know, I’m a dork.

- I think all the Red Bull I drank over the course of the trip gave me an irregular heartbeat.

- Several of the police cars you see in medians — that causes everyone to slam on their brakes — don’t actually have anyone in them. So the next time you see a police car on the side of the road, don’t bother slowing down. It’s probably just a decoy.

- We need to devise a system like the one in “I, Robot” where cars drive themselves automatically. I mean, if we can do it with planes, ships and Tomahawk missiles, what’s the hold up on my ’93 Mercury? I’m considering writing a letter.

- Whatever happened to predictability? The milkman, the paperboy, evening TV?

- Why is the theme from “Full House” in my head?

- Why does southern Virginia smell like wet newspaper?

- I’m totally flying home next time. I’m starting to believe that being thoroughly irritated for three or four hours is marginally preferable to being moderately irritated for nine or 10, or in this case, 12 hours.