[Continuing the saga of our 2001 move from Maryland to California...]
The first couple of hours of our drive west were a bit rough due to the traffic (it was the Friday before Easter and Spring Break). But as we headed into the wilds of Virginia, things improved. Soon we noticed that the southwestern corner of Virginia is home to many, many road signs… Bristol 27 mi, Bristol 22 mi, Bristol 17 mi, Bristol 12 mi, Bristol 7 mi, Bristol 2 mi. We finally arrived in Bristol (right on the VA/TN border) and our stopping point for the night. I got out.. sniff, sniff… burnt brakes? No, a fuel farm right behind the motel we’d chosen.
The next day, our goal was to get through Tennessee and Arkansas. Apparently Tennessee is the home to many of the “World's Greatest/Biggest/Best __________”. Hmmm. It was also the state of smells – first the oil at the motel, then we stopped at a rest stop to check the tie-downs on the car and the place reeked of urine. And just when that stench finally worked its way out of the Expedition's ventilation system, we drove through a low valley filled with thick fog that smelled like... burnt turkey!?! Odd. There were also numerous road signs in Tennessee pointing out equivalence between miles and kilometers (“Town X – Y miles, Y miles = Z kilometers”)… “Gee, what's a keelo-meter?”
Then we were on to Arkansas. Ugh. One cannot accuse Clinton of funneling federal funds to Arkansas road projects -- the roads were horrendous -- old concrete that had separated and unevenly settled. It was so rough, the vibrations loosened the screws on the license plate on the trailer and we nearly lost the plate. We didn't quite manage to make our goal that day and stopped for the night in Arkadelphia (which is everything the name implies), about 60 miles outside of Little Rock. And it was in the middle of a tornado/thunderstorm warning with reports of 3” hail. We watched the weather channel for a couple of hours and when it looked like death was not impending, went to bed.
Easter Sunday we were up early (luckily no hail damage to our cars) and heading for Texas where we detoured through Austin to visit some friends. Texas pride is really something… can you imagine someone putting a big ol' sticker in the shape of California on the rear window of their SUV? We had a great time in Austin and got back on the road Monday morning (would not want to be late meeting Thomas and the truck) and it turned out to be our most harrowing driving day… In El Paso, we had a very impressive lesson on momentum involving us, a wreck in the middle of the freeway and a semi directly in front of us. Our rig stopped with just a few inches to spare and we were well into New Mexico before all the muscles in my neck relaxed.
And, finally, out of Texas. It really seemed like we were in the west now. We stopped for gas in Las Cruces where we noted that no one used the credit card reader on the gas pumps and wondered why… Do people in New Mexico have bad credit? And were people looking at us strangely? Were we becoming paranoid?
That evening was spent in Deming, NM, a town that is really no more than a truckstop, convenience stores, gas stations and a handful of motels. But the weather… oh, pure heaven. Warmth without humidity. (as a native Californian friend is so found of saying -- it's a dry heat). We got up pretty early on Tuesday – if we got to Twentynine Palms before the housing office closed, we could spend that night in our new house (we'd had it with motels by that point).
Great scenery in Arizona. Lots of cacti and cool rocks, just like a Roadrunner carton. Outside of Phoenix, we spotted a “Really Big Moving Company D” van… was it Thomas? No, but we followed it most of the way to California anyway. California – at last! I've never been so happy to hear the words “Do you have any plants or fruit?”
The last three hours were the longest of the trip. We finally arrived in Twentynine Palms, but not in time to pickup the keys, so we had to be satisfied with peeking in the windows. The neighbors must have thought I was insane when they saw me standing outside the kitchen window jumping up and down excitedly yelling “Gas! Gas! Gas!” Yes, a gas range. Woo-hoo!
We unloaded the car off the trailer (which instantly drew a half dozen neighborhood children – like we needed an audience), dumped the trailer, assured the neighbors we would not be leaving the trailer permanently in front of the house and headed off to the local Motel 6 (one of the few motels in town that accept pets). Not a great choice – it's where all the young marines who live in the barracks stay when their girlfriends come to visit. I swear the guys next door were having party in the shower!
We picked up the house keys 0800 Wednesday morning and Thomas drove up at exactly 0900. Thomas had hired two local desert guys to assist in the unloading and both of them were appropriately scruffy looking (and the one guy repeatedly told us how he did not like to live near other people and of the merits of barbed-wire topped chain link fences). However, when requesting their choice of Subway sandwiches at lunch time, the one with the bad teeth tells Rob to be sure to get his on sourdough bread. Ah yes, we certainly are in California.
To be continued...
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