We're digging Worst Week. When I was in high school, my friend's uncle got back from visiting the fam in Guatemala. Me being me, I asked how the roads and drivers were. "Just terrible. Horrible. Almost as bad as Boston." Off I went to college and I became convinced that the very worst drivers in the world all lived in Sonoma County. Whether half-drunk from constant wine tasting, stoned, or half-drunk and stoned, getting around safely was a nightmare. Imagine a place where 300,000 people all drove below the speed limit. Always. And then slowed way, way down when it rained. And one year it rained from November until April. But then I went on a business trip to Boston. Tailgating, screaming, 400-year old roads, potholes larger than the Pontiac I rented — Tom Bradyville had it all. And then my white knuckles went bloody red when my boss at the time (a Boston native) swerved into the shoulder of the Mass. Turnpike and got the car up to 90 mph. Hey, we had a plane to catch. Also, if you don't live in the US of A, that's not your fault. Just indicate what shanty town and which banana republic. So, you?