Summer is sailing past and we are trying to catch up to it in our 1988 Volvo with its worn upholstery, carpet of crushed Ritz crackers and Freon-guzzling air conditioner. We are on the road, not as carefree summer bohemians, but as the sober, hopeful parents of a high school senior searching for a good liberal arts college. Within the range we permit ourselves—no more than three hours from home—an immense wealth of possibilities opens up: public, private, urban, rural, secular, religious. I’m not sure what it’s like for our son, but for his parents it is tremendously exciting. We can’t help picturing ourselves in his place. If only we had realized in our youth what marvels a college has to offer, and what further marvels it conceals.