Yankee-loving friends from Michigan arrived at our house on Tuesday; yesterday we got on the highway at an early hour for the drive to the Bronx where we watched from the bleachers as the Yankees eeked out a 2-1 win over the Rays in 10 innings. The first 25,000 fans received complimentary wire moustaches (ones that clip with a wire washer directly onto the narrow bit of nostril-separating flesh) in a promotion of Jason Giambi’s final push for All-Star status. If he doesn’t get it, it won’t be for our lack of enthusiasm: Ph., like the rest of us, put on our ‘staches each time he batted, and he drove in the first run of the game in the opening inning.

A rain shower waited to do its thing until the game ended, so we were lucky on that count. Less lucky: Driving into rush hour traffic in a rain show and thus missing the turn onto Jerome Ave. that would have headed us N on I-87; alt. route took us across Macombs Dam Bridge, into Harlem, and eventually back again. If I had any motorist’s innocence remaining after the move from KC to Syracuse four years ago that had me riding over curbs and hogging two lanes in the largest available Penske moving truck, it is now gone. Which also means I’d happily (and perhaps with some numbness in my legs lingering from the hours on the road) go again–and drive a few of those miles–if any EWM-reading CNYers are considering such an excursion.