During this morning’s commute, once again, I found myself contemplating. By now, the Jetsons Motor Company should have delivered on my childhood Saturday morning cartoons’ 21st-century promise – autopilot. We have the information superhighway.  Why must I navigate the tin river wasting yet another hour of my life looking up the end of someone’s tailpipe?  Okay, some might argue that the solution to my grievance is called public transportation, but like most Americans, I want the privacy of my tin can. Allow me the freedom to contemplate some other mindless task besides carrying my car to the parking deck.  Speaking of the parking deck, why do I even need to be involved in parking my car?  Shouldn’t my car let me off at the door and find a parking space on its own? Need I go on?