I used to work on assembly language listings on the subway in the 1970s,
working on patches. Sometimes I could feel the people sitting next to me,
watching my arithmetic, sitting on their hands in order to not try to correct
my arithmetic as I wrote things like 12 - 3 = 7
We would drive out of New York City from midtown, on the West Side. From
55th street you could see the the traffic levels on the raised West Side High
highway -- back before it fell down -- and decide to take 11th Avenue up.
At 57th 11th becomes West End Avenue, which eventually peters out when it
hits Broadway at 106th Street. At that point you have to duck one block east
to Amsterdam, where you turn north and then turn left at 110th to pick up
Riverside Drive, and then up to the George Washington Bridge.
One day I was driving (I was about eighteen; the moment I got my driver's
license and I was available, my dad had me drive while he slept on the way
home). I was on West End, and as I drove through the fifties, then the
sixties, and then the seventies, when we got to something like 75th Street,
I remember thinking, "Good...we're almost there."
I was distracted or fatigued enough to be thinking that 100th Street would
come right after 77th Street.
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