So, I just returned from Motucky.

For those of you who've never heard it called "Motucky" before (God knows I hadn't), it's Modesto.

It had been quite a while since I've left the Bay Area on anything but a plane, so the 1 1/2 hour drive did me some good. I turned the music up, opened the moon roof, and put my foot on the gas. I just had my car washed, so I was big pimpin' it.

There were some pretty ok towns along the way, and, on a partially sunny Sunday afternoon, it was an enjoyable drive through Fremont, Pleasanton, Dublin, Livermore, Tracy... Before leaving, I Googled directions, and was truly frightened about the number of highways there were between 880 and 99. (I mean, OMG! more than ONE road to get to the next city! What kind of a place is this?) Then, I realized that 580, 5, and 120 are basically the same road. I thought fondly of SaBa and Helga as I passed through "Lard" and "Exit." It brought a smile to my face.

I really have nothing bad to say about Modesto except - It's far. The joyride of Sunday afternoon was completely abolished this morning as I arrived at work 2 1/2 hours after leaving Modesto; but spending Super Bowl Sunday with Special K (even though our team lost) and waking up to zero freeway noise was lovely. I'll admit it.