Epic Fail.

High points in my life are handed over to me in the guise of sudden realizations and simplistic accomplishments. I truly cannot express the extreme and overwhelming joy that I receive upon unraveling a silly license plate scramble. This process is somewhat dangerous for me, in the driving sense, as I become utterly enthralled and can, quite easily, lose sudden control over certain brain functionings. Upon sighting a complicated license plate, typically Californian, I am struck. I creep forward, suddenly aware that the driver may be examining my thought processes in silent observance. I begin to sound every possible phrase or accronym out, and typically am able to accomplish my goal and continue in my daily life before the driver is out of view. It is only times like that of Tuesday night, when I am completely and utterly stumped; when I come close to following the driver home in order to uncover the mystery which may haunt my entire being. For who, indeed, drives around Vista in a construction-esque truck with the license plate: I Y R U. The driver made a right, and it took all of my common decency and moral upbringing to spring forth from me in order to not follow course. Instead, I raced home, not wanting to waste a single second of this opportunity to discover life's meaning in the form of a Vistan's license plate. I hopped online and made a search. This is what I found, and it is ever so dissapointing: International Yacht Racing Union. No deep meaning, absolutely no connection with the vehicle, no accomplishment on my part. My life feels empty and pointless. And so, it is without further ado, that I step out into sunlight, in search of a new and exciting (worthwhile) license plate. Goodbye, my friends, for the quest is on!