Hey Smile, please, hog away! (Before turning in last night I read the posts about jawjaw's forthcoming book and July F.A. appearance. Imagining the scores of people that will jump into that forum and the thousands of posts it will generate, I went to bed and had a mini-nightmare in which Dotsie was upset with me because my forum wasn't as lively as the Queen's. Trixie was in the dream with her little crown.)

Leg's not good. Had MRIs Saturday and will know the verdict next week, but I'm thinking stress fracture in the pelvic/hip joint area. Leg just doesn't seem to want to support my weight. I'm pool-running, NordicTracking and biking. I don't get too crazed about injury layoffs anymore. It happens. Relax, heal, then get back out there. If this is the worst thing that happens to me, I'll take it. I'd like to be healed by the end of June so I can train for a September marathon in NH, but we'll see how it goes. There's always another marathon.

What kind of surgery did you have?

How's this for serendipity? I always read a magazine while I eat my breakfast. This morning, I read Conde Nast Traveler (which I hate -- way too precious and chi-chi, but I got it free using some old frequent flier miles I had kicking around). Anyway, they had an article about Baja. It didn't mention Rosarito, but mentioned towns on the Sea of Cortez/Gulf of California side of the peninsula. Talked about old Spanish missions and caves with 9,000-year-old paintings and places like San Ignacio and the Playa el Requeson, where you can park your RV for two bucks a night with hookups, and the highway between Loreto and Santa Rosalia, which skirts hidden turquoise coves the whole way. I'm going. You've inspired me!

And the Oregon Dunes. After you pass through Coos Bay on the Oregon coast, heading north, you enter Oregon Dunes National Seashore, which runs for miles. We hung out at Spinreel Campground and Umpqua Lighthouse State Park. There are ATV rentals at Spinreel, and people of all ages sail up and down the dunes on these four-wheelers. As a Harley pilot, that ought to be right up your alley, Smile.

Why, if you've hijacked Dotsie and have made it as far as California, tie her down and take her up to Oregon, and then tell her to hold on while you fly over the high, yellow sand dunes, the Pacific glistening in the distance. She may never go back to Baltimore.