There's A New Cat in Town, Meow Accordingly

The trip I didn't know I was dreading happened this week as we embarked on an over 1200-mile journey to our new/old home.

At first, it felt like a backtrack—and honestly, I'm not trying to backpack. But the reasons for the move seemed unique enough that I didn't feel like we were doing a remake but a reboot.

When you drive a bigass U-Haul truck with a car in tow, you can only really go 55 miles an hour, both according to the car transport itself and the noise the pair makes when you go over 60MPH on accident (allegedly). That means every estimated time, according to the devil that is WAZE, was wrong by, say, two to three hours. This means that your "estimated time of arrival of 3:21 pm" is more like 7:02 pm. This was devastating when it came to planning anything fun that was time-sensitive. We'll get into that in just a moment.

We were doing all this travel during my birthday, so it felt even longer because we started our drive when I was 39 and finished it when I was 40.

I had planned to meet with one of the hosts of one of my favorite podcasts, Tell'em Steve-Dave, but I couldn't make it before they had to record because of my travel situation. Big Bummer.

I wanted to eat before 7 pm at the hotels we stayed at along the way, but I couldn't due to the travel situation.

To give you an idea of the craziness. We left the hotel at 8:30 am and got to the next hotel at 7:00 pm. Yikes. It's not a lot of driving, but it feels like it when you're sitting there, your foot hovering over the brake, mashing on the gas, and not going as fast as every other person in the country. Yes, I was passed by every car on the road. I was even honked at by one of those trucker guys, and I didn't even give him the "milking a cow standing on its hindlegs gesture." And yes, I honked back at him.

It was a relatively uneventful trip. I was able to catch up on podcasts, listen through a couple of audiobooks, and wear out my knee on my pedal leg. There was an exception.

We got on the highway that said, "Cars only, no trucks." I know what that means; I can't drive my truck on this highway or laneway. However, you look at it. It was the waste of road known as Route 15, which had bridges so low, I could jump and hit my head on them if I was standing underneath. They were bridges for hobbits, complete with the overall Baggins aesthetic.

After visiting a super-friendly and over-staffed gas station, I jumped back on Route 15 with a clearance of 11 feet and was on my merry way. I had already driven through New York and had WAZE have me go around in circles twice before I said, "Screw this, I'm just going this way, and you gotta figure it out, WAZE." As we went under our first bridge (a piece of cake), a clown pulled beside me, requested I roll down the window, and began yelling at me about something. I assume he was just another irritated American about Hamas and Israel conflicts, but I couldn't make out what he was saying because the truck was so loud, and oh yeah, we were going 55... He passed me, got in front of me, flipped me off, and pointed to the next exit.

I declined this offer to "eff on the exit" and kept going. There, I saw the sign that warned all trucks to exit now, so, like someone who reads signs, I got off where I was supposed to, tricked WAZE, and was able to get on Route 84 with no discriminating bridges.

I wonder why the man was mad. I got on Route 15 by accident but figured it out without a finger in my direction and being yelled at. I instantly pinned a story in my head where he had been that guy at one point and had destroyed a U-Haul or whatever fancy truck company he was using. We were in Connecticut, after all. Or maybe he needed clarification as to why riff-raff like myself was allowed to live. Either way, no harm was done during this trip besides cutting my hand on a rusty piece of metal on the car transport when retightening the tire harnesses for the sixth time due to terrible bumpy roads.

That has all healed since the "kiss to make it better" by my four-year-old.

The fact that we are not in Tennessee anymore hasn't hit me yet and will take time to sink in. I've lived here before we had a child, and now it's going to be a fun exploration of what I potentially missed with him here. We shall see. But right now, I will relax, get ready for my birthday meet-up tonight, see some friends I haven't seen in years, and start misplacing the 'r' in every word I speak.

Wicked.