WELLFLEET I was chasing a runaway rototiller in the back garden when it veered into my rosemary patch, chewing up the fragrant herb with gleeful abandon. I waited until the sinister machine ran out of gas, then shinnied up a locust tree to survey the damage. Strangely, this message had been cut into the shrubs: Have you ever done a giant beach walk like Henry David Thoreau?
I jumped from the tree, threading the needle through the sunroof of the Curious Prius and we headed for Ballston Beach in Truro. Realizing I would need a two-car approach, I called my backup chauffeur, Fern DerBender, and told her to meet me at Ballston. She arrived behind the wheel of her trademark teal El Camino, cranking Deep Purple and smoking a large Topper cigar. Where to, toots? she asked.