I woke up on my third day in San Diego, too sick to move. I lay on the couch that was my bed, alternating between feverish dreams and wondering if I was going to die. Monica wasn't feeling much better.
We also discovered that there was a huge winter storm barrelling down on most of the country. We knew we would have to forego Route 66, but didn't know which other route would be safer. At any rate, we were really too sick to care.