(by Glenna)
Tom, Conor and Troy left at 6 am to pick up the trucks and take them to the village. I stayed back to sort out communications and other details (the very glamorous job of getting the laundry done).
At noon I ran into Conor on the street. The alternator was dead so they had returned to the hotel to pick up the space. After Troy drove some competitors to the village, he parked the car in the underground at the hotel. Since I was to return it to the rental place he went to get it. An hour later we were still waiting for him as he only had to drive around the block we thought he must have been in an accident. It turns out the delay was just traffic. Pedestrians have no regard for stop signs. Red means go and so does green. On the 8 lane roads there are no lines ... why waste the paint? When there are lines no one pays attention.
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