The magic moment happened as I crossed the Montana-North Dakota border last week on my way home from Arizona. I had looked forward to it for weeks.
Slowly, the row of nines on the odometer turned over to zeros. Without fanfare, my Ford Ranger arrived at one-quarter million miles.
To put this moment in perspective: Silent Night by candlelight leaves my eyes dry. Tear-jerker movies bore me to death. Funerals? By the time they happen, I am usually pretty composed.
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