Twelve hours of delightful driving brought us to the Pacific and the end of the Rally. Jay had hoped to drive the last few hours to the finish, but had clutch troubles, and as if he hasn't gone through enough troubles already, he lost a tooth. In spite of their consistent breakdowns, the Stealth team kept high spirits and a positive outlook throughout. They were awarded second place in Rally Green on a cliff above the ocean on the dramatic Rt One.

We took off from Carson City and were faced with the east wall of the Sierra Nevadas just as the engine was getting warmed up. Carson is at 4000', which is fine for the naturally aspirated diesel. But very quickly we hit five, six and then seven thousand feet, with the predictable loss in performance. The summit was 7200', and then the long decent to Lake Tahoe. The inner teenager took over and pounded Dirigo through the twists and turns like there was no tomorrow. Again, the voices of the Camden pit crew were begging for moderation but couldn't be heard over the screaming of the gears. Lake Tahoe is an absolute gem, our own version of Italy's Lake Como. The small towns of Incline and Kings Beach had the classic mix of hipsters and wealth that seem to co-exist so well in beautiful places. One more seven thousand plus pass, and it was onto I-80 and the famous Donner Pass. With a little drafting assistance from a semi, Dirigo ate Donner for lunch and began the decent into California's Central Vally.

One of the finest drives must be rt 128 from Winter to Napa. Beautiful twisty roads, some with first gear switchbacks and then gentle rolling through farmland. The Puma river offers a cool dip in fast rapids, and there are the de rigeur winerys. I felt compelled to stop at at least one, imagining that I had penty of time yet: indeed, the day felt timeless. Adding to the general euphoria were four beautiful women in evening gowns coming for a tasting as well. The nineteenth century Nichellini winery was deep in the shade of giant eucalyptus, and the five of us were treated to a history of the family, local wine-making politics and rivalries, and a fascinating tutorial on winemaking in general. It took us an hour to get through the five varieties offered. Our host Greg was the fifth generation to run the place. Needless to say, when I got back on the road I was driving a bit slower, going for style points instead of sports carring. My father tried to drill into me as a young skier to slow down and just make nice clean turns, so it was with gratitude to his early training that I gently dipped and rolled along the twisting ribbon of asphalt with the gentle clunking of bottles in the back.

For once I was the last car in, at Pt. Reyes. We ate dinner and then went to find the ocean to celebrate the finish. Dirigo had 3002 miles on the clock and everyone was in awe of the little car. Attempting to document high mileage on a pedal to the metal cross country event might have been a bit silly, but it was real world stuff. No time for hyper mileing, but these cars should be able to get lost in strange cities, run with the rush hour, be comfortable on the Interstate and still return excellent mileage. I haven't calculated the average mpg for the trip, but it won't be great. But we did it and hundreds of people were turned on to three wheeled cars and had conversations about fuel economy. Not one person told me that it wasn't an important problem. There is a thirst, even deep in farm country, for fuel economy. It just makes economic sense.

So, I think I'll go for a ride around Marin county today, just to wind down. Maybe I'll meet some interesting people...