The squirrels are on notice. It's that time of year again; it's October, my birth month, so it's time to play the annual "Where will Amy pop up next?" game. This year's answer is one that many of you will recognize as a favorite previous playground: the metro Washington, D.C. area.

I'm not flying this year. I'm driving.Correction. We are driving it. Yep, that's right -- we. I shan't be going alone; I shall have my three stout, trusty German squirrels (Günter, Friedrich, and Konrad) with me this year.

See, I would have loved to have made something along the lines of ac ross-country trip in my old car (the 1994 Sundance) but, let's be honest. Will anyone brave or crazy enough to make a cross-country road trip in a '94 Sundance please stand up to be ridiculed like the foolhardy soul you are?

The plan: driving. Lots and lots of driving.

The place: Maryland. I'll be aiming for Andy and Heather's bunker. Now, mind you, I plan to stop the car quite a few feet short of the actual bunker, so as not to ruin all the lovely carpentry work they've done on their basement this year, but I'm planning to aim close enough so that I can sorta fall into the house after the drive's over.

Günter, Friedrich, and Konrad think this is just the coolest thing, ever.

My spouse, I think, is living in a state somewhere between confusion, resignation, worry, and terror over the whole enterprise. I think he's given up on the idea of ever curing me of my long-distance jaunts. (It's that whole independence-streak-a-mile-wide thing, of which he knew full well of before even discussing marriage. Though he's never going to say a word about it to me, I know that he's going to worry about me while I'm gone, and will breathe a lot easier when I'm back.

For most people, the penultimate question would be "Why?" For that, I can provide three very good answers:

one two three

I have friends worth driving this many miles for - this many, and more. Doesn't everyone?

More on the thought and the process of roadtrips later. For now, just a question - those of you who have known me for a while know that I always make a point to send postcards from somewhere interesting when I go on roadtrips. (Previous recipients will remember that the last set were written out while I was sunbathing down in the Gulf of Mexico.)

Want a postcard? I'd prefer that you not leave your mailing address as a comment. If you don't think I have your mailing address, send it to comments [at] domesticat.net.