Just as we gain more confidence, (after all, it’s been several weeks without a disaster), our bus battery dies and we are stuck for days without hope of a 24 volt jump. Under cover of darkness, we consider illegally draining our gray water into the New England countryside before it overflows our tanks. Would we stoop so low? The Midnight Dump of Tim’s bus rear does have a certain ring...

Maine is so exquisite, even I am enticed by the out of doors and the promise of seeing a moose, although it seems we are the only tourists there who never do. We have a view of the ocean from our campsite and while the development of my bus phobia had surprised us both, we were even more shocked when Maine seemed to bring on a touch of agorophilia, first manifested when I suggest a (small) hike through Acadia National Park. Still, I am a bit put off by just how darn nice people are in this state. When someone smiles at you in New York, it could be benign, it could be evil or it could be just plain crazy, with about an equal likelihood of any of the three. We New Yorkers have therefore mastered the art of looking through people, as if the entire City consists of urban ghosts. To do this looks a bit creepy here, so I force myself to smile back. It’s actually not that bad. But, these Mainers are not only genuinely friendly, they also like to do things: After my computer crashes, the tech offers to deliver it to me (over an hour drive) after his repairs take longer than expected, the AAA mechanic comes back on his own after being unable to supply us with enough voltage, just to see if the spare battery Tim bought at Sears is doing the trick. I'm losing my mind in a state full of Tims.