I know, I know, it's about time.

Kelly Toepke, Manager of Vehicle Testing and Crash Test Dummy

Sunday evening my family and I were in the Jeep Commander when our Labor Day holiday came to an abrupt end. We were heading southbound on a six-lane surface street when a car came screaming out of a parking lot on the east side of the road. The car smacked a Subaru Forester that was headed northbound, spinning it in the center turn lane before it continued across the wide road directly at the Commander. My husband, Barry, was driving and swerved to the right in an attempt to prevent the car from broadsiding us. Too late. We went up on to a grass median and struck a stop sign before going head-on into a big tree.

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It's over! The Jeep spent the night in MY driveway, and I spent the night in MY bed. Vacations are excellent therapy for body and soul, but getting home after spending 1,900 miles on the road is a great feeling. All that's left is to roll into work this morning and release this final blog entry.

For our family at least, the Commander didn't turn out to be the ideal road trip implement. This Jeep seems better suited to empty-nester duty at the ranch or someplace similar where the off-road related trade-offs would be appreciated and utilized.

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Our Oregon adventure has entered the final phase: driving home. After re-packing our stuff and saying our good-byes, we pointed our Commander south for the 900-mile or so return trip. The run home will follow a more direct route, as the dog is waiting for us and the kids are itching to see who their teachers will be next year.

Three of the Jeep's electronic gadgets have already helped this driver wile away the miles behind the wheel: Sirius satellite radio; the Navigation system; and the Tire Pressure Monitoring System readout.  Here's how they are doing:

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My parents own a hilltop house with a 180-degree view of the Pacific near Pistol River, Oregon. Another higher hill sits behind their place, with an old logging track servicing the top. The steepest portion is something dad proudly calls the Wall of Death, a narrow, 30-percent steep stretch made slippery by a coating of pine needles, gravel and twigs.

Low-range and a steady application of throttle are necessary here. The steepest portion is deeply shaded, making it a poor photo op. But the payoff at the top is an even more sweeping 360-degree view, with the unspoiled, rocky Pacific coastline at our feet, and the Trinity Alps behind. I don't understand why he wants to sell this place...

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Yesterday was the first full day of nothing to do but relax.  Finally.

Our first task was to load six of us into the Commander and head for Jerry's Rogue Jets, where we hopped on a jet boat to take us 52 miles up into the Wild & Scenic portion of the Rogue River.  Fantastic.  Everyone should make this trip.

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Our Jeep Commander is back in service! Thanks to Harper Ford / Kia / Jeep, their helpful Green Team service writer Scott List, and an anonymous mechanic, a new starter arrived in the morning shipment from San Francisco and was installed by lunch. And no, I don't think we received any special treatment, as I never let on where I work or what I do for a living.

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Yesterday afternoon, my folks drove 120 miles south and rescued us from the Lost Coast Brewery, a wonderful little joint that we had set up camp in while we waited. We transferred our belongings from the stricken Jeep into the back of their Honda Odyssey.  Even with the Honda's third seat in use, all of our stuff from the back of the Jeep, plus items the girls had piled between them in the second row, fit well below the headrests in the Odyssey.

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Well, I guess if I had to break down somewhere, this is as good a place as any.  I'm sitting in the Lost Coast Brewery in downtown Eureka, California.  And since I won't be doing any more driving today, I'm having my second Downtown Brown ale with lunch.

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Day 3 of our trip to Oregon in the Commander has gone badly.  After a grand total of 11.4 miles - the distance from our hotel to our breakfast stop at the Big Blue Cafe in Arcata, California, the Jeep refuses to start.  Click, click, click, is all I get after a twist of the key.

It's not a dead battery, as the car sat for 12 hours overnight and started on the first twist of the key.  After driving to our breakfast stop and sitting for about five minutes, I decided to move the car to a better parking spot and... nothing.  I have plenty of power, as the power windows, lights, NAV screen and everything else works at full strength.  And Editor Karl, who had a similar no-start incident, replaced the battery about five or six-thousand miles ago.  No, something else more sinister and hidden is at work. 

A sympathetic motorist who saw me fiddling under the hood offered me a jumpstart, but as expected, that didn't change anything.  Click, click, click. So I've called roadside assistance, and a tow truck will be here in 30 minutes, they say, to haul me and ONE of my family to the dealership.  According to roadside assistance, the other three of us need to get a taxi, at our own expense, or simply wait here, on a park bench presumably.

I'm going to try calling the dealership directly to see if they can send a courtesy shuttle to pick up the others.

Needless to say, the hunt for Banana Slugs in the Coast Redwoods will have to wait for another time.

Day 3 tally:  11.4 miles

Dan Edmunds, Director of Automotive Testing     @24,615 miles