Sarah and I went to see Sicko recently out in suburbia. The only places the film is playing in the Richmond area are way the hell out beyond our usual stomping grounds. We loved the film and both found it surprisingly moving, especially the Cuban segment. The expedition really brought home to us, however, what city dwellers we are and how ill-suited we are to the car habitat. Short Pump, where the 14 screen monstrosity resides where we saw the film, is a big box nightmare with seas of cars and lanes and lanes of traffic to go anywhere. We had intended while there to go two blocks up the road to the Apple Store. (I hope to get a new keyboard before beginning another novel; this one is falling apart). The idiocy of getting in a car to make the journey was anathema to us, but our attempt to walk soon proved impossible. The Times-Dispatch ran a cover story on the unfortunate dangers of driving—one of our leading ways to die in this country—with several suggestions for improving your odds. Driving less wasn’t one of them and certainly not living somewhere you didn’t need to drive to go a couple of blocks. I’ll stay in the city where it’s safer.