I can’t resist giving you one more on Ann Arbor, stemming from yesterday’s column. A reader from Clarkston, Mich., sent me the below note:

Dear Mr. Nordlinger,
I am required to go to monthly meetings at our corporate headquarters in Ann Arbor. Last month, on the way home, I decided to take a slower, scenic route through downtown. It was a beautiful sunny day, the windows on my big Ford pickup truck were wide open, and I was thoroughly enjoying the commute. That is, until I hit a stoplight in the heart of town.
Waiting to cross the street was a female pedestrian, in the uniform of the non-conformist: skirt down to the ankles, backpack, and yes, a beret!
As we both waited, she screamed at me, “Why do you drive that gas hog?!” I shouted the only reply I could come up with on short notice: “Because it won’t drive itself!”

I don’t think I would have come up with that retort. And, by the way, I loved the reader’s phrase, “the uniform of the non-conformist.” Practically poetry.