3500 Miles: Day Two

Day two was probably the least interesting day. (What a way to start a story.) We didn't get murdered in our sleep. Batman saved the day and was somber whilst doing so. And M-N wisely called her sage of a sister in New Mexico to ask how to unstuck a truck. Pam said to unhook the trailer and move it to where it's not jackknifed. I said, no way, then you're pushing the whole weight of the car. She said it can be done.

6 a.m. (or so): I head out to give it a go. I unhook the trailer from the truck, lift the thing off the hitch, and suddenly realize the lot is ever so slightly on an incline as the car begins rolling towards me. "Nougat," I say, leaping around the car to fling open the door and slam the emergency brake down with my hand, "Jeepers."

A predicament. Fortunately, there was a trucker heading out to his cab just then. I asked him for help and together we pushed the car back to the edge of the parking lot (maybe 10 feet). He looked at me a little bit like the idiot I probably seemed, but he helped nonetheless.

My next problem was backing the truck up to where the hitch was and keeping it at an angle so I could then easily pull out without getting stuck a second time. This involved trial an error, but I eventually made it, having a few times to push the car myself. Turns out, the Ford Taurus is, like an actual Taurus, big and stubborn.

I got it, though, and we were on our merry way. Thus came Pennsylvania, hills and trees, big hills, or so they seemed at the time. The east really has nothing on the west as far as mountains go. Then Ohio, then Columbus. Over 600 miles that day and every one counted.

When we arrived at my parents house (after getting detoured from our triptik, wandering into a park, driving the truck along what probably was a walkway, and finally arriving at their house), we decided to go out for a nice dinner. We'd planned on this, and M-N had asked me to leave unpacked a particular pair of nice black shoes. Thing is, shoes aren't in short supply, there are many black shoes, and damn if I didn't pack the ones she wanted. I rooted around in the back of the truck for a while, producing not one but several pairs of black shoes. I didn't find the ones she wanted. But we went out anyway.

(Days later, she discovered the shoes appropriately buried in the suitcase we had with our clothes in it.)

So ended Day Two.