If there's a sunny place for shady people I'm going to find it. If humans are tribal, then my sense of belonging to this tribe has been a lifelong bug. I could blame Jack Kerouac for his stated appreciation for "the mad ones ... the ones who are mad to live," but I can't abide by the commonplace he pegs as the counter to the madness he prefers. Which means driving around Puerto Rico with my then-girlfriend looking for trouble and somewhere cool. Something off the beaten path.