Sometimes life throws you a curveball. Usually it's just to see if you're awake at the plate and not off in la-la land. Usually it's a swing and a miss. Strike 1! Sometimes you connect, fouling the ball into the seats, into all those people watching you where it usually beans some unsuspecting 40-year-old. Then sometimes you really connect. The ash meets the leather, the sweet spot gets sweeter, then everyone stands, hands shading eyes, and admires your big blast disappearing into the mists. We live for those big blasts. But last Saturday morning I got the curveball. Swing and a miss. Big time. I left Colorado Springs last Thursday morning, heading toward the great Northwest to help my son Brett move back to Colorado. I stopped in Buena Vista at Bob's Rock. Sketched out the topos for Rock Climbing Colorado. Then stopped at Monitor Rock for more topo work. Later on to Grand Junction and then west the next morning to Green River and Salt Lake, winged by City of Rocks, stopped in Boise for an iced coffee in the 96 degree afternoon. And spent a cool breezy night at a rustic (read cheap) motel in Le Grande, Oregon. Saturday, on to Seattle. I stopped for a final refill at the Safeway in Yakima, Washington. It was there that the curveball almost hit me. Swing and a miss. After filling the tank with $2.97 gas, 16.7 gallons, I started the engine of my 1990 Ford Ranger. Loud ticking from the block. Louder knocking from the lower bowels. And a rough miss in the plugs. So the short story: The engine had ceased seeing good days. After 251,789 miles it decided that this was the day, and Stewart be damned. It was Saturday. Almost no station was open, no mechanics on duty, no rental cars available. Nada. Nil. Nothing. I finally found a Goodyear store and Manny and the good fellas diagonosed the problem and lent me a loaner van. I spent the night in Motel Sex...er Six in Yakima. Let me tell ya, there is not a lot going on in Yakima on the weekend when you have nothing to do. It was just like one of countless cross country trips I've made. I ate a burger in Mel's Diner, the table covered with the Yakima newspaper, and slept long and hard. Watched television...CNN, local news, weather, The Empire Strikes Back. Then slept some more. Read some. Listened to two black guys arguing in the parking lot. Walked along the 1st Street strip of motels, past the Rotten Apple Core Motel and Travail Lodge and Armada Inn (their motto: Spend the night in our fleet) and The UnAmerican Inn ($29.99 a Night! Love it or Leave it!). Drove down to the mall and Borders to see if they had any of my books. Yes! Scenic Driving California. The plan for the next day was for Brett and Danielle to come down on a mercy of angelic mission to rescue dear old pop from Yakima and take him back to Seattle where he could continue to slow chill and marinate in the clouds. Today, four days later, Manny says the truck might be ready tomorrow. Remanufactured engine. New clutch. Nice four thousand dollar bill (please send donations to me in care of this site www.Falcon.com). In the meantime, I've been down practicing with the Mariners. Gotta be able to hit those curveballs better. Swing and a miss, no no, he's hit it. It's outta here! Yeah right, my wildest dreams...