We enjoyed seeing Eastern Washington. It is said that it is not so much about the journey, but about the people you meet along the way. This proved true at Jiffy Lube. Having reached the 3,000 mile mark, Bucky decided it was time to change the oil while we were still in civilization. Fisher relished her time tied to a tree alongside the garage and spread herself out under its leaves. The young man changing our oil didn't hesitate to crawl under our vehicle on the hot asphalt as it was too large to fit in the bay. He periodically emerged from underneath with a little more grease smeared on his face and would look over at Fisher and smile. He repeated this action several times, with a little more grease on his face each time, but still smiling. While Bucky looked on, he began talking to him of his country and the smart dog his grandfather had owned. Evidently, it herded the goats. "It was so smart a dog." He then spoke of his father's dog, also unusually intelligent, and he looked again at Fisher now sprawled on her side in the shade. Was he thinking that she also was so smart a dog? When finished under the truck, he continued his work under the hood. Here he once again emerged, now considerably more dirty, holding our air filter. Tucked in the accordion like vents were fussy, mummified mouse carcasses. He looked over at Fisher and smiled. Without learning through us, he seemed to know of her success as a rodent hunter. Anticipating the presence of more undiscovered dead bodies, I headed for a Starbucks conveniently placed next door, convincing me that God does work in mysterious ways. We left Spokane, short one pint of VT maple syrup to be enjoyed at Jiffy Lube and wondering if crawling under people's cars in Spokane could ever be as nice as working on the farm in Bosnia.