I-40 East has taught me a lot.
We’re finally on the last leg of the trip to Atlanta. As I write this Sunday night, we’re stopped over in Van Buren, Arkansas.
We’ve been on the road since Thursday, and given our respective levels of stamina, we’ve decided not to push ourselves by trying to drive for nine or ten hours. We’re taking it a little more leisurely.
It’s still a lot. I’m not a 23-year-old in a fast Mustang anymore.
So here’s the thing I didn’t tell you about this trip.
On moving truck day, thinking I was a singular example of a super-fit, super-coordinated human male, I decided to maneuver a big, heavy suitcase down the twisting stairs in our condo.
Despite my incredible physique and sense of balance, I found myself just ahead of said suitcase, falling headfirst and semi-backward down those stairs, landing hard on my left ribs and back.
I saw the proverbial stars.
The moving guys came running and picked me up. I don’t quite remember the first thing they said, but I’m sure it was something like, “What a doofus.”
That was Wednesday. Today is Sunday, and my ribs still hurt.
It sure is fun to drive with bruised ribs.
Let that be a lesson: Don’t do things.
Oh, and gods bless Saints Tylenol and Advil, the patron saints of doofuses.
Doofusi?
We left Sherman Oaks on Thursday and drove through the High Desert to meet I-40 East — our primary conveyance on this relocation.
We passed mountain passes, lots of desert, some very, very long cargo trains, Road Runner rock formations in Arizona — where have you gone, Wile E. Coyote? — and yes, I did see a couple of actual roadrunners.
Meep meep.
Some more mountain passes, and then the beginnings of trees.
After a couple of days, the land became flatter. Into New Mexico, then Texas. That’s all it is.
Flat.
And if there’s one thing I’ve learned on this trip, it’s that there are two things to remember when you’re on the 40.
Thing one: THE LEFT LANE IS FOR PASSING ONLY.
Thing two: BRIDGE ICES BEFORE ROAD.
Those signs are now embedded in concrete in my brain.
We’re almost there. Maybe another day or two.
I’m loving the free breakfasts.
Misty Mao is riding with Ronnie in her car. I was very concerned because she’s been such a fraidy cat for most of her life. But she had just started coming out of her shell, treating our condo like it was actually her home.
And then we had to take her away from all that.
She’s surprisingly okay with the car trip.
Ronnie tells me she’s been putting her paws on the car windows and watching the passing scenery. Maybe she’s got puppy blood in her.
(No, I don’t know where those puppies got off to. I’m sure they’ll turn up. Right, Misty?)
She’s got the routine now. In each hotel room, she finds a safe hiding spot, then comes out, sniffing the air, exploring, figuring out just what can be walked on and what can’t.
I have a feeling that once we get settled, she’ll be a very chill cat, like our late, beloved Lionheart.
It’s an adventure.
See you soon, Atlanta.