Checking engines and fun with customs.

So, today was the day. We were up at the crack of dawn, raring to go. And go we did-- for about 4 minutes-- until... disaster.

Through the soft and mystical magic hour glow, the check engine light reared its ugly head. We were back in the driveway before the house was even out of sight. After a quick look under the hood and a spin around the block, my dad delivered his diagnosis.

Me: "So, how does it look?"
Dad: *shrugs* "Fine, I guess."
Me: "Can we drive it?"
Dad: *shrugs* "I would."

And so away we went, again.

We decided to go through the states to save some time and fill up on cheap gas and diner food. We crossed at Sault Ste. Marie where we were greeted by a very interesting customs officer. The experience has already become one of our favourite things to laugh about. Jonna's account is my favourite, so here it is, straight from the pages of her journal:

"We were allowed passage into America by a colourful and power happy desperado of a customs agent who seemed to peg us for what we really are: alcoholic hippie criminal stoners...you know, typical Canadians."

He was obviously trying to scare us; but ended up waving us through to Anastasia's shouts of "check out  the blog!"

After a lot of driving and singing along to mix tapes, we made it to Ashland, Wisconsin-- a bustling metropolis (ahem) along the shore of Lake Superior. We decided to stop at the local Super 8, where, after smuggling a third person into our "two people only" room and adjusting to the smell of chain-smoking cat lady, we have finally settled in for some well deserved rest.

Next stop on the long haul to Dawson: Saskatoon!

Stay tuned.

PS I am happy to report that the check engine light mysteriously turned off after a trip to the local Walmart. What a magical place.

-Danielle