I am in Bath, Maine. My mom and I drove up here today, for a teaching interview tomorrow. My mom did most of the driving: I took over around the half-way point, but at our next stop, mom asked me if she could drive again. "I think I'm averaging about 5 miles an hour faster than you," she reasoned.
We made some small talk, some larger talk. Neither of us thought to bring any CDs in the car, so we were stuck with whatever was in there previously. It was too late when we realized we had Buena Vista Social Club. My mom worked at the school where I'm interviewing just after she graduated, and many of her former coworkers are still there. She told me about her and my dad's post-graduate jobs. They spent a lot of time flitting between jobs and travel; it was reassuring knowing they didn't drop into teacher-and-lawyer roles immediately.
I'm not sure what questions I'm going to be asked tomorrow. I've already done a few interviews with the school. It's a pretty campus, fairly isolated from big cities. I'm staying in the Visitor's Center. It's a large building, but I'm alone in it. There's a thunderstorm outside, and with the lights off I can see why Stephen King stayed in Maine to write.