Changes in latitudes. Changes in attitudes.

There's no denying it: I've been in a funk. 

Stresses in many parts of life have led to me being grouchy, as well as a recurring headache. 

In the days before marriage, such stress was dealt with upon a barstool, with compatriots in the collective misery of being 20-somethings in a world set upon making our futures bleak.  

That didn't help much. 

After hitting my 30s and marrying Jen, we began to adventure. We'd explore the central Susquehanna Valley, getting lost in Union County's West End or romping around Shamokin in Northumberland County.  

Adventuring didn't cure the stress, but it gave both of us a clearer head with which to deal with it, which is something I couldn't always say for my barstool solution. 

Monday, after chores were done, we took Sophie on an adventure. It wasn't much, if you're from the Abingtons. We wandered the nature trail at Abington Community Park. 

Packed in the front-loading sling, Sophie bounced along as Jen and I wanderd the pond. Meanwhile, the Abington Heights Comets practiced football and rehearsed cheers on the upper fields. 

Despite a little crying, I think Sophie enjoyed the walk. And that sling is much easier than carrying her by hand. 

We also took the chance to drive out Route 309, which turned into Route 92, which led us to the fabled town of Tunkhannock. A minor detour south to see the Tunkhannock Viaduct (aka the Nicholson Bridge), and we jaunted down U.S. 6 to Clarks Summit and home. 

A nice little adventure. It cleared my head a bit, and I'm sure Jen feels the same. 

But what about our newest adventurer?

Well, Sophie squawked a bit and cried as we tried to get her to sleep later in the evening, as is the usual.

But during the trek, her eyes darted in every direction, trying to take it all in. 

I think she'll get the hang of it. 

Mopar to ya

We just returned from a few days in Amish Country. Indeed, we were in Bird-In-Hand, Pa., for the 35th annual National Chrysler Products Club Meet. 

Because nothing says automobile fandom like Amish Country. 

Seriously, though, it was a fun time and I've come to look forward to the meet. But I'm not a car guy, and I drive a Pontiac. Why would I want to go to a Chrysler car show?

For starters, my father-in-law is the club treasurer. 

I'm married to the club chairwoman.

When I asked for Jen's hand in marriage, my father-in-law said two things. 

"Well, you're going to have to become a Dallas Cowboys fan, and you're going to have to drive a Chrysler product."

Anyone who knows me and my love of Baltimore sports knows the Cowboys thing wasn't going to happen. (We've worked it out to where I support my wife in her support of her team.)

But I said I could get behind the Dodge thing. In fact, I've since priced out a new Dart, with its reported 42 mpg thanks to Fiat. Once the Pontiac dies, and we've got the money, it's a purchase I'll likely make. 

All that aside, I also have been tapped by the editor of the club journal (also my father-in-law) to write a few cover stories. One is a recap of the meet; the rest are stories gleaned from the Mopar fanatics showing their trophies on the show field.

In talking with these motor heads, I find I can relate to their passion. No, I barely know the difference between a radiator cap and a gas cap, but I listen to the stories. 

Like how the 1962 Chrysler 300 H was a long project for Mark Souders of Centerport, Pa. 

The car was a hunk of metal in Lancaster, N.C., when his friend wanted to fix it up. A lost lease and trailer ride later, Souders ended up the owner and did a lot of the restoration himself. 

It's the detail he speaks of when it comes to the car. The hand-assembly of the upolstery. The steering wheel cast in two parts — not one and painted to look like two — from a shop in California. The literally thousands of hours spent working and tinkering to make her purr. 

When I talk about the intricacies of journalism or the fruit flavors in a well-made IPA, I get just as passionate. Newspapers and beer are two great loves in my life (other than Jen and Sophie, of course).

It's the details that make the story, and for some, those details are life itself. 

That's part of why I knew I was going in the right direction when my father-in-law brought his family's love of Chrysler products into the conversation with me. 

It's that passion. 

It makes life worth living.