The hardest part of leaving so far, has become the physical act of leaving. After setting off on our Northbound course last week, we were abruptly stopped after driving only 100 miles from Phoenix. The culprit, the other major piece of the drivetrain that we didn’t replace, the transmission. In the end we made it as far as a good campsite near Arizona’s ski resort Snowbowl, but cold weather and a questionable heat source for a bitter cold night (low was supposed to dip into the teens) pressed us to tuck our tail between our legs and head back down the mountain to the warmer climate of the Phoenix valley where our friendly Mercedes Benz dealership rewarded us with the good news that the tranny was failing. The mechanical failure cost us some Automatic Transmission Fluid (ATF) that we were replenishing as we returned to Phoenix, and obviously some money as Phil is rather certain they can’t just “give” us a new transmission for free. The worst part though is a week of delay in our actual departure which happens to put us past my mom’s 60th birthday and puts the Thanksgiving deadline for an arrival in Washington much tighter than we would have liked. I suppose this is the life we’ve chosen, and I have to say how proud I am of our family, we’ve shown our frustrations, but we’re still excited for the journeys ahead and haven’t lost any of our passion for the adventures awaiting.