So, reader, your E. is now at large -- in Clovis, New Mexico to be exact. I write this from the Motel 7 on Highway 70, just a stone's throw from Texas, which was formerly a Motel 6 of fond remembrance. Interesting that under its new ownership its guiding powers should increase it one integer to the number of God. I should add that the sign beckoning to weary travelers is now a shamrock, instead of the rather nondescript red, white and blue that the nabobs of the central Motel 6 office selected for this motel in its original inception. The shamrock, which, as every Catholic child knows, St. Patrick used to instruct the Irish on the finer points of the doctrine of the Trinity.
The the shamrocked inn on the way to Providence. Are we guided by some unseen hand? Best not to inquire into it too closely.
I must retire now, suffering as I am from "white line fever," in order to "put the hammer down" in a push for the gateway city.
It looks like we've got ourselves a convoy. . .
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