Perhaps it is because I just finished reading David Crosby’s autobiography Long Time Gone, but yesterday when I was driving home from the store I realized something about myself that is strange: I drive like I’m holding, and when I say holding I mean carrying or otherwise transporting illegal substances. Not that I do that anymore, but I suppose it’s a habit that dies hard. Taking less populated streets, turning off when there are rollers (i.e., police cars) within a mile sight ahead and particularly behind. Being very careful to observe speed limits, stop signs, and so on. Maybe I’m just an old hippie at heart … LOL. But it doesn’t matter what vehicle I’m driving, how far the distance, how well I know the neighborhood, what my frame of mind is … I drive like I’m worried about getting busted. Quite odd, I suppose.