Yep, you guessed it, the inevitable. A couple hundred miles into California the 1966 engine alerted me to its death throes with a plume of black smoke and a clanking sound, the sure signs of a thrown rod. Taking the 101 back home included many hills that finally got the best of the old-timer. And Mia? "I knew this was going to happen," she says. "It wasn't 'if' but 'when'." Thanks.