It all started when Trent announced, "Hey, Dad.  Look at this tractor I found on Ebay."

When someone says something like that at our house, I can pretty well figure I am up for another adventure.

I was right.  We had the winning bid, and we were now slated for an 8 hour trip to southern Tennessee to haul 'er home.

So, yeah.  That wasn't the *only* thing going on in life just then.  Christine and baby had just adverted an eminent medical emergency on Tuesday.  Whether it was the prayer chains that lit up that morning or the second set of doctors really having a better handle on a treatment plan, I don't know, but everything quieted down by the end of the day.  We tend to take these things for granted, thinking perhaps it wasn't as bad as we thought they were or something.  I tend to think God uses ordinary circumstances to surprise us and catch us off guard.  At any rate, somehow, someway things quieted down enough that we were pretty much guaranteed a two day reprieve until "Operation Baby Day" (Thursday).

I had never intended to the mother (mother-in-law?) hovering outside the room (or worse, IN the room) waiting for my grandchild's birth.  No.  That just seems intrusive to me.  BUT....

But, we were still being told all sorts of scary things that we had no idea if they would happen or not.  Clearly, *if* any of those scary things happened, it was going to be advantageous for *someone* to be the circulating standby at the hospital "just in case". They chose me.  Me!  I was delighted!  BUT.....

But, the tractor needed to be picked up.  I reluctantly agreed to go along to go get it.  Afterall, what could happen?  We drive the rig down there on Wednesday, load it up, haul it home.  We were slated to be back in plenty of time for the baby's birth on Thursday.  "Plenty of time" for us is actually NOT a comfortable margin for most people, but I digress.  I'm used to it.

So, we a bunch of "good-byes, be-back-soon's", we were off.  After one stop for speeding (for which we weren't ticketed....) and a flat tire (so nicely pointed out by a kind, elderly man on the freeway), I was beginning to feel uneasy about getting home in time.

We made it to our destintion as "Jolly, round Mr. Sun was going to bed behind the purple hills" (Thank you, Thornton Burgess for that line).  The young fellow loading us up reminded me of my own sons.  Willing to take a dare, but certainly not willing to die over it.  It took a little creative thought, but we had the thing loaded and strapped down eventually.

We began to retrace our steps back north toward home.  Things were going so well, we started counting our chickens before they were hatched began making plans for how the rest of the trip would go.

The first sign of trouble was a