Heeeeeerrrre’s Johnny, not Jay Leno

Driving us to Park City from Salt Lake City in his shuttle van, the 40-something driver turns to the eight other passengers and me and says, conspiratorially: “I don’t want to get you excited or anything, but” — and at this he points at an angle through the front windshield to a hill in the distance — “that’s where Johnny Carson lives.” His announcement is greeted with silence. I look around. The others are all in their 20s. I imagine they don’t even know who Johnny Carson is