Benkelstein, trying to recall the lyrics to a Rice-Krispies jingle while driving eastward on Highway 70, almost missed the new sign. “To I-40,” it read, with an arrow pointing to the right. Benkelstein hit the brakes, just hard enough to slow to twenty-five miles per hour, and pulled off at the new exit. “It’s about time!” he said to his wife.“I was beginning to think they’d never get this road finished.”
“Hmm?” Mrs. Benkelstein said, looking up from her book.
“Why, this’ll cut a full ten minutes off our trip easily,” he went on. “Let’s see, that’s twenty minutes round-trip, and since we visit your mother twelve times a year—twelve too many, I might add—”

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