Apologies for interrupting my chronological narrative.
I was out shooting on 6th street late last night, and I noticed something weird happening with my d700. Trouble focusing, then the mirror started having problems lifting back up. In the morning, the mirror had died completely. Result? No image in the viewfinder, no focusing, and some sickly noises as the mirror tried to lower.
Took it to Austin's largest camera store, and they took one look at it and said: "Yup, you're going to need to send that end". ETA from Nikon for fixing this sort of thing appears to be a month+ (assuming it's even worth paying fo the fix). Result: I walked out of the camera store with another body.
I've had my d700 for three years, and it is without a doubt the sexiest machine I have ever had occasion to own. It's been everywhere with me: Uluru, the Paris Catacombs, the Pantheon, Market Street, foggy beaches, downpouring streets, rainbowed hills, airports, trains, cars, rooftops, Christmases, Pi Parties, birthdays, weddings, and almost every date with Betsy.
When someone asks me why I shoot Nikon, the answer is: It felt good in my hand. That was my d700 -- it always felt right.
It made it two weeks with us across the country; I'm just sad it couldn't make that last mile.
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