Writing from Lubbock, Texas . . .

. . . where I wish I had brought a camera, as I have seen so many things I would love to photograph. Also, I feel as if I have entered a mysterious land in which it is still 1950.

Why? Many reasons. Among them:

(1) desperate for morning caffeine, I entered "Starbucks" into my rental car's navigation system, which revealed two locations 5 and 7 miles away and a third 102 miles away;

(2) people ride bikes around town while wearing normal clothes, rather than skin tight biking outfits like those found in the Tour de France;

(3) locals do not lock their car doors and even consider leaving their keys in the car;

(4) the Hertz shuttle service takes a person approximately 100 yards from the airport to the parking lot found just downhill; and

(5) when a handsome manager employed by one's client is assigned after dinner to help the out-of-town attorney locate her hotel, he looks puzzled to find her in the driver's seat of her own rental car, intending to drive herself with him as a passenger.*

*If you're wondering, the nearly 38-year old General Counsel for her state's civil rights organization cheerfully said, "Oh, you'd like to drive?" and handed over the keys without argument.