I'm up and off at eight. New York is 1200 miles away, and I'm planning 3 or 4 days to get there. I have to get to Chicago for tonight. It's boring old interstate all the way, 94 down to Madison, Wisconsin, then 90 (or is it 39?) into Chicago.
Although there's nothing much to see on the interstates, Public Radio provides good company. It hardly ever goes out of range east of the Mississippi, so it's usually only a question of twiddling the dial to pick up the next transmitter.
Today's memorable programme was something like Women's Hour. They were plotting, as usual, to take over the world. I enjoyed myself with bits of ribaldry they couldn't hear. They weren't even approaching grown-up.
Later that night, I met a man who gives breathing exercises to racehorses. I didn't ask him how he did it, 'cos I was sure I wouldn't understand the answer. He not only claimed to have won the Kentucky Derby (not personally, you understand), he even offered me a hot tip for this year, which is only a month away.