On and on and onward, running north on I-95. Hit the road on Saturday night, gotta be there by Tuesday. No time to dally. The Florida Keys stretch of U.S. 1, a two-lane drag strip, is already behind. Ahead, forever, lies the East Coast of the United States of America. Interstate 95.
After 200 miles, hypnosis sets in, the body rigid, mesmerized by the rhythm of left lane to right lane, right lane to center lane, forward to pass the red Honda, fall back to let the red Honda pass again. Minimum 40 m.p.h., maximum 65 m.p.h. most of the way....
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