I said I'd never have a streak. The car got two.

A while back I wrote that I'd probably never have a streak, because I take over too often for one to ever run. I was wrong twice in two weeks. Heading down on the seventh, north of Birmingham in the rain, the screen threw confetti at me. 250 miles without a takeover. Then coming home on the nineteenth, up around Cullman, it did it again. Same number, same confetti. I had the World Cup final playing on the screen at the time, which felt about right for the day. Here's what I actually took from it, though. The streak isn't a measure of how well I supervise. It's a measure of how much of the trip was interstate. Long highway miles are exactly where this car is at its best, and 250 of them in a row on I-65 is not the same accomplishment as 250 around Kansas City would be. I'll take it anyway.