And so it has come to pass, as predicted and/or ordained, and I sit now in veiled obscurity with nothing but the milky residue of high overhead sodium highway lights occasionally throwing a quick passing blob of illumination that slides and passes across this page, the rhythmic bump and thump of rubber tires across segmented concrete of this vast bridge, the hiss of air pressing against my window glass. I’m in a car, see, somewhere south and somewhere west, but heading generally further south to our various stops along the way to, in theory, sunny FLA and all the festivities and adventures that await there. Liberty Bell is first and foremost on our list since we travel with Chris C, from New Zealand (along with P.S. and A.S., aka the S brothers) and he feigns great fascination with this sort of American historical / political landmark. We’ll also visit Psychic Fang national park (aka Wash Monument) and perhaps an Amish farm for an overnight stay. First and foremost, however, and already behind us, we lost money in Atlantic City, as poor sods like us our apt to do, even in the best of times and with the most empty of pocket…