We had been dreading the hot August desert crossing between Delta and Carson City, so what a delight to find an overcast morning with scattered showers. Jay called to wake me up and to find his part that we'd hoped our welder  had fixed. I ran out to the car to find it, but it was no where to be seen. Only then did I realize that he'd failed to change his watch to Pacific time so it was actually 4:45. But I had a muffler to install, breakfast to eat and a desert to cross, so was quite grateful. The part was waiting for me at the coffee shop next door.

The wide flat basins on US 50 are separated by mountains with passes, and this day we counted ten. The prize for getting across the big flats and climbing the pass was the twisty decent down the other side. As I said yesterday, the handling of the car continues to amaze me. I just don't want to wreck it before we complete the event tomorrow. I met yet another Friend Of Jack in the small town of Ely. Not from the Mother Earth News blog this time, but from his home town. They spend the summer touring remote desert country. Jack had planned to meet us here in Carson City but has yet to turn up. Jay thinks that a leaking battery may have spilled battery acid onto the electric motor which would mean he's done. Michael and the boys are working on it tonight and we are hoping for a nice finish with all three cars tomorrow.

One of the social highpoints of the day was getting pulled over by the Nevada State Police. I've been waiting almost two years for this to happen, so imagine what the cop was thinking as he was not only trying to take in this odd little car, but the nutty driver with the silly grin who was actually happy to see him: really the complete package. I handed him the papers and proceded to explain the Rally, the X-Prize, our small group of dedicated builders, and what great mileage we get at sea level but all he wanted to know was if the State of Maine knew that my "Kawasaki 750" (host vehicle and vin number doner) actually has three wheels, a diesel engine, two seats and a trunk? I couldn't attest to just what the State knows but did assure him that we have an Autocycle sub-catagory in Maine into which Dirigo snugly fits. Then he wanted to see the vin number engraved on the car's frame and I had to confess that we hadn't thought to do it. He pointed out that the registration indicates that the vehicle in question is white, has two wheels and is fueled with gasoline. How does he know this is the registered vehicle. I gave him our card and told him to have a look at the web site. I don't know if he actually did, but he sauntered back to the cruised to run my numbers, and I scrambled up the embankment to get a picture. He was actually a delightful fellow, with a Hungarian name, and he soon sent me on my merry way. Back in Camden, the town office corrected the registration for me, and I ran across the street to get an updated insurance card as I had forgotten to do that before leaving on the Rally. It was expired in Nevada, and I might have too, had my Hungarian cop asked to see the insurance card!

I know this is supposed to be about Dirigo, but what is there to say about a little car that just keeps on pulling day after day? This leg was 450 miles, and the last bit was on freshly paved black asphalt well after the morning clouds had parted. I could feel the weight of the heat squeezing into the car from below. Why don't we add white dye as a knod to global climat change? The car never even thought of over- heatingI, and I managed to get a dip in a cool reservoir just outside of Carson City, but even dressing a dripping wet body offered short relief. But I'm not complaining. While Dirigo isn't exactly open motoring, there is still a great connection to the outside world because there are no windows and no radio. One is obligated to contemplate the outside world as it rolls by. I noticed, for example, the bushes at the side of the road were much greener compared to the rest. Must have been rain running off the road. There is a summer monsoon up here, so there had been a lot of rain recently and the desert was much greener than I would ever had imagined.

And then, in Carson City, on time at four for the first time, was Comma Coffee. As usual, there was no welcoming committee of enthuiastic eco-car nuts, but to walk in to Comma after many days of watery coffee and cowboy culture and bask in the art, the food, and the incredibly hip hangers on was well worth crossing a desert for, in not the entire country. Thanks to June and the kids for an exceptional place! Fuel mileage is better now that we're down at 4000', a bit over 60, but still nothing to write home about but I am regardless...