With the American auto industry in bankruptcy and all those orphaned S.U.V.’s now wards of the state, I felt a need to hit the road – to scoot down the West Coast, away from the broken past.
Car loaded with Springsteen and Sinatra, I took to Interstate 5, the 1,382-mile ribbon of asphalt designated two years ago by our United States Government as a “Corridor of the Future.”
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