Dear Everybody,

Dash's mom showed up to give us a ride home. Cyl had a bag. I had a bag. Tappet had a seven foot pile of crates and trunks like some sort of Duchess boarding the Titanic. Nobody's sure where it all came from, but Lady Tappet won't leave it. Dash's mom gave up and left us to figure it out. We decided to temporarily stow the big stuff at camp and go rent a truck. The good news is Marty was still around to drive us into town in his lightning car. The bad news is this must be Amish country or something, because nobody in town seems to know what a truck is. Or a phone. Or twenty-seven of the fifty states. Back on the good news side, though, stamps are only a penny!

Your Pal,

Sir Roderick