Thursday I will set out to drive my old Ford van to Seattle and then on to Vancouver Island to visit kith and kin. I believe I can do this—I’m 81, so I can’t be certain. This will be an adventure. (When I say I’m certain about something, it is the same thing as saying I have no doubt about it. I am certain about many things. For example, I am certain that language exists. To formulate a doubt about the existence of language, I would have to use language.)
My plan is to stick near the coast on slow roads. I’m pretty sure I can drive a thousand miles. The van has a bed in it, and I can nap when I feel sleepy. I think about my father’s mother, a young girl who arrived in California driving a small covered wagon. (Most covered wagons were small.)
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