Coined “Cloud Computing”

I like to drive between New Jersey and Florida. About 1,200 miles, door to door.

I enjoy it.

The road clears my head. Somewhere around Virginia, the noise drops out and the meetings begin — not on Zoom, not on the phone, but in my head. I replay conversations, argue both sides, and solve problems that wouldn’t budge at a desk. By the time I arrive, the decisions are already made.

I once read that Luciano Pavarotti loved driving long distances too. He could have flown anywhere instantly, but often chose the road instead. Flying took control away from him. Driving gave it back.

The car became a moving buffer between life and performance, chaos and focus. He arrived calmer, centered, ready.

That made sense to me.

Driving isn’t wasted time. It’s transitional time.

Airports compress everything — arrival, pressure, expectations — into a single moment. The road stretches it out. Mile by mile, the mind organizes itself. Thoughts line up. Noise settles. You don’t arrive abruptly; you arrive prepared.

For Pavarotti, the road protected his voice.

For me, it protects my thinking.

Different instruments. Same discipline.

Some people measure travel by speed. Others measure it by what gets resolved along the way.

I’ve always preferred the second kind.

I made many business decisions — and launched more than a few products — while driving long distances alone.

This is one of them.

* * *

On a Saturday morning, I walked into the office. Carmen, Robert, Alex, and Jeremy were already there.

“Guys, I’m driving to Florida,” I said. “I’ll see you soon. I’ve got my BlackBerry. I’m online. No worries.”

Then I walked out, got in the car, and pointed it toward the New Jersey Turnpike.

At the last rest stop before leaving New Jersey, the idea hit me — fully formed.

Cloud computing.

I pulled out my phone and called the office in Montvale.

“Put me on speaker,” I told Carmen.

The entire management team gathered around the conference table while I stood alone in a highway rest area, staring at traffic and coffee machines.

I didn’t explain the idea.

I didn’t pitch it.

I gave instructions.

“Robert — secure the website URLs.”

“Alex — start branding. Logos. Visual identity.”

“Jeremy — build the content. Put meat on the website.”

“Carmen — call the Javits Center. Wake up the sales team and lock in June dates.”

There was a pause.

Then I said, “Ladies and gentlemen — on Monday morning at 7:00 a.m., we are launching CloudEXPO.”

Silence.

Finally, Jeremy broke it.

“What the fuck is cloud computing?”

Carmen cut him off immediately.

“Just do what he’s asking,” she said. “You know how this works. Whenever he comes up with one of these ideas, it turns into something big.”

She paused, then laughed.

“Remember when he announced Java Developer’s Journal? Other publishers were laughing at us. They said we were making a magazine for Starbucks.”

Then she added, “Whatever the fuck cloud computing is — let’s just do it.” They had laughed at us before. By the time a few competitors finally figured out Java — after we had already published twelve issues — we had put two of them out of business.

I could smell the cloud from a mile away.

* * *

That week in Silicon Valley, we sold out the entire expo floor. Carmen even added tabletop exhibit space on the bridge connecting the convention center to the hotel. She squeezed ten exhibitors onto that overpass.

After the David Linthicum keynote, we opened the expo floor.

David spoke about web services — and during his talk, he sensed something brewing.

When attendees poured out afterward, they didn’t head toward the main hall.

They rushed the hotel bridge.

I turned to Carmen.

“What are those tabletop exhibits selling?”

Before she could answer, the fire marshal showed up. The walkway to the hotel was completely blocked.

She shrugged.

“They’re all talking about something… cloud.”

* * *

That Saturday, during my 1,200-mile drive back to Florida, I replayed the entire California event in my head. The keynote. The bottleneck. The bridge. The word everyone kept repeating. That’s when it hit me.

* * *

That realization triggered my call to the office.

We weren’t just launching another conference. We were building a one-stop platform to educate Silicon Valley — and eventually the world — about cloud computing.

Jeremy went to work immediately and wrote a piece titled What’s Cloud Computing? It became the centerpiece of our event website.

By Monday morning, CloudEXPO was officially announced.

* * *

At the time, I didn’t pretend to know exactly how big this would become.

But I had seen this movie before.

When we launched Java Developer’s Journal, PowerBuilder was still paying the bills. Java was the experiment. Within a few years, Java grew to ten times the size of PowerBuilder.

And I knew — instinctively — that cloud computing would dwarf Java.

If Java multiplied our business by ten, the cloud would multiply it again.

This wasn’t a trend.

It was the next foundation of computing.

And once again, we weren’t late.

We were early.