...to Central California, roughly a 500-mile round-trip.
Photographer D.'s girlfriend has a house up there, and needs to collect something from it. D. doesn't want to go, so they asked me to do the behind-the-wheel chores. She's not the world's best driver, for sure; I get extremely nervous, passenger-wise, in her car.
It's a nice day, I don't want to be here, and I have a fairly decent set o' wheels available. I do stuff for them, they do stuff for me. Don't ask me how I see the ratio between them/me; I'm biased in favor of me, naturally. In one sense, I'm glad D. isn't going: sometime during a drive of that length, there might be fisticuffs and resulting loss of blood. His.
There may be photos later. Or maybe not.
17 hours ago