Something very special happened this weekend: my delightful and sweet cousin Therese got married to Mike--a development that I hope will lead to some Lake Superior sailing at some point since they are both high adventurers. This picture shows it all--crisp amazing fall in New Hampshire, the White Mountains, enduring love, commitment, and adventure all tied into one. What made it all the more amazing was what it took to get there and back. Mark had commitments on the Amicus II, so the girls and I flew to Philadelphia and hitched a ride with my sister Lamar and her family to New Hampshire. I'd heard "7-hr. drive" and hadn't thought much about it until I looked at the map and realized that there was no section of this 7-hr drive where a driver could just mindlessly follow the highway in the way we learn to do out in the Midwest. We started at dawn, my brother-in-law Barrett at the wheel, sister Lamar with her trusty i-phone in the passenger seat, and the gaggle of children clamoring for books-on-tape in the back. I was relegated to the middle seat and given no responsibility besides snack distribution, which was good because I was convinced that Barrett was both tailgating and being tailgated the entire way. From Philadelphia to New York City to Hartford to Boston: every few minutes a turn, another interstate, a parkway, a bridge, or construction, would present itself. Before "Seri" on the i-phone made her decision, Barrett calmly hugged the center lane, whipping over to one side only when Lamar quietly directed him with voice or arm-sweeps, depending on how many mili-seconds she had to communicate. Despite this continual state of reflex driving, Barrett never seemed to get rattled, even when the loud, sarcastic voices from the "Sisters Grimm" book on tape boomed throughout and six lanes confronted him with three options, all in the next few seconds. I sat back, blew my nose, and decided that humans really do adapt. This culture was as foreign to me as snow driving is to a Floridian. These people had some skills that I either never had or I lost when I moved to the Minnesota. As far as I know, in 15 hours of driving (on the way home we detoured through Boston, "just for fun"), he did not make a single wrong turn. In the last half hour, driving into Philadelphia in the dark, we were home free and everyone knew it. Billy Joel was on the radio and Barrett and Lamar were head-jamming, barely needing to even lift a finger to communicate these last few turns. Tired as we all were, it was a triumph to make it through that mass of humanity unscathed. Beautiful New Hampshire was long gone but I doubt I will forget either the wedding or the drive for a long time.