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In Plain Engel-ish

Washing My Hands Of Technology

North Carolina was smack-dab in the middle.In 1959, driving from our home in Indianapolis, Indiana, down to my grandparents' house in Miami, Florida, when I was eleven, we veered east into the Tar Heel state to drive on its newly opened first leg of Interstate 95 from Kenly in the north to Fayetteville in the south. To my annoying hourly backseat question of "Are we there yet?" my mom could finally respond: "No, but we're exactly half-way."North Carolina had held a soft spot in my elementary-school heart ever since third grade when I'd ordered my first joke book from Weekly...

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