On a sofa in San Rafael, stretched out, "The Path Through Mount Utsu" ahead, intestines still churning from tuna sandwich eaten in Middletown cafe, I note the serpentine road uncoiling into Napa.

There were night drive's up this road, heading home from San Francisco through dense fog, hunched over the VW Bug's steering wheel, lost within the engine's pacing roar.

 

 

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