Nothing like a dozen or two near death experiences while driving a beast of a moving truck cross country to make one appreciate the dawning of a new day.
It was my second time driving a U-Haul truck. I'm only slightly ashamed to admit that I wrecked/destroyed the first one, BUT thanks to something called insurance U-Haul was willing to overlook my first strike against them and decided to give me a second chance in the form of a set of one-way keys for a haul from Central Texas to Southern Georgia, and it went something like this:
-killer bees
-helping paws of doom
-loud profanities
-separated shoulders
-drunken GPS systems
AAAAND
-food poisoning
After being tricked by U-Haul to rent a much larger truck than originally reserved, getting behind the wheel of a fourteen footer didn't help with easing me back into a comfortable zone of confidence with driving any of their beasts. It's one thing driving across town, which I wasn't really good at anyway. It was an entirely different kind of terror and adrenaline laced horror getting it from one part of the country to the next.
But I survived. Likely in part to having planned my travel time through Alabama perfectly, I'm sure--in and out before the sun fully sets...
(Dear Mom, if you move to Alabama, I will never visit you...)
The dealer also tricked me into paying for extra miles. Tip: Research EXACTLY how far it is to your destination before picking up your moving truck. They're sly, those dealers... I ensured him, however, that I had absolutely no intention of joy riding through town in a U-haul and only settled with an extra twenty miles for any unexpected detours or gas stops.
Somewhere between Louisiana and Mississippi, I gave in to the sad eyes peering up at me from their cage of shame and made the poor decision to let Edgar out of his carrier. Road trips, much like tubs of water, are rarely found on a cat's bucket list of top 100 things to experience before they die. E-boo (as his friends call him) had lost his voice from singing "Highway to Hell" from Dallas to the Louisiana state line and was, at that point, only interested in hugging my hip. So following yet another gas up at yet another Love's, I cracked the window, turned up the radio and continued on with Ed at my side.
That is, until I was shanked by a honey bee...
honey bee^
He may not look threatening, but zoom in a bit and his intentions are made much clearer...
Straight up gangst'a!
Little bastard swooped out of nowhere, flashing a blade and threatening to cut me if I didn't cooperate. It was sometime at this moment when Ed decided to take his chances and clawed his way across my lap to wrestle it to the ground. As in....the floorboard. The battle lasted long enough to earn me confused glances from two passing vehicles as the U-haul went from sixty to forty to sixty again before Ed pulled himself back into the sunlight, victorious.
Following a few spatted profanities on my part, he stayed on his side of the truck for the remainder of the trip...
It wasn't until after my next stop at the next Love's to gas up and grab a bite to eat (which is really a tale for another paragraph), as I reached for the handle to pull myself back into the driver's seat, that I realized I had separated my shoulder during the battle. I had just reached the Alabama state line and wasn't looking forward to passing through the towns of Where the Hell Am I!? and Is That a Hooker!?, especially since their construction projects were still forcing people to crawl through them at twenty miles per hour...
(Dear Mom, I meant what I said.)
The pain in my shoulder quickly went from 'Ouch' to 'JUST CUT IT OFF!' before I could get to Georgia, forcing me to drive with one hand. Now, I know that most of you kids like to set the seat back and drape a wrist over the steering wheel in an attempt to look good at what you do. But trust me when I say, you don't. It's ten and two for this chick. I could be driving a puttering golf cart, and it'd still be ten and two. Which is a reference to what I feel is a funny story, actually, for I've thrown a grown man from a moving golf cart before. My grandfather. Into a holly bush. Just because I was gettin' comfortable. So, ten and two, folks. Ten and two.
Unless you've separated your shoulder... Then it's ten and a pinky. That's all I could sacrifice. I made it to the Georgia state line as my legs started quivering. Why they would have anything to say about my shoulder, I haven't a clue. The sun had set, my shoulder was threatening to evict tears from their ducts and my legs were causing the cab to shake. My GPS was leading me into the final lefts and rights and exasperated reroutes and frustrated u-turns (she was just as tired as I, apparently) of the trip, as she guided me onto a random street and just left me there!
Claiming that I had arrived at my destination, she patted herself on the back and passed out. Looking around, I realized I was nowhere near my destination. There was a man in house slippers pushing a complaining shopping buggy across my headlights and a cat with half its tail missing diving out of his way and under a porch of a nearby house.
Three words came to mind. Whiskey, Tango and Foxtrot.
I didn't type in the street address but rather just the city and state, and I was lost on the other side of town. And then I heard a voice. My voice! Mocking me!!
I have absolutely no intention of joy riding through town in a U-haul...
Damn.
So I arrived a little later than intended. No big deal. I had twenty extra miles to spare!......
And here I am. New home, sweet home. Where I spent the first two days with my face in the toilet screaming for Ralph. Mississippi's Love's, apparently, had no love for me...
To my friends and family back home, I love and miss you all. Wish me luck, and I'll see you all again.
---The Beginning---
It was my second time driving a U-Haul truck. I'm only slightly ashamed to admit that I wrecked/destroyed the first one, BUT thanks to something called insurance U-Haul was willing to overlook my first strike against them and decided to give me a second chance in the form of a set of one-way keys for a haul from Central Texas to Southern Georgia, and it went something like this:
-killer bees
-helping paws of doom
-loud profanities
-separated shoulders
-drunken GPS systems
AAAAND
-food poisoning
After being tricked by U-Haul to rent a much larger truck than originally reserved, getting behind the wheel of a fourteen footer didn't help with easing me back into a comfortable zone of confidence with driving any of their beasts. It's one thing driving across town, which I wasn't really good at anyway. It was an entirely different kind of terror and adrenaline laced horror getting it from one part of the country to the next.
But I survived. Likely in part to having planned my travel time through Alabama perfectly, I'm sure--in and out before the sun fully sets...
(Dear Mom, if you move to Alabama, I will never visit you...)
The dealer also tricked me into paying for extra miles. Tip: Research EXACTLY how far it is to your destination before picking up your moving truck. They're sly, those dealers... I ensured him, however, that I had absolutely no intention of joy riding through town in a U-haul and only settled with an extra twenty miles for any unexpected detours or gas stops.
Somewhere between Louisiana and Mississippi, I gave in to the sad eyes peering up at me from their cage of shame and made the poor decision to let Edgar out of his carrier. Road trips, much like tubs of water, are rarely found on a cat's bucket list of top 100 things to experience before they die. E-boo (as his friends call him) had lost his voice from singing "Highway to Hell" from Dallas to the Louisiana state line and was, at that point, only interested in hugging my hip. So following yet another gas up at yet another Love's, I cracked the window, turned up the radio and continued on with Ed at my side.
That is, until I was shanked by a honey bee...
Little bastard swooped out of nowhere, flashing a blade and threatening to cut me if I didn't cooperate. It was sometime at this moment when Ed decided to take his chances and clawed his way across my lap to wrestle it to the ground. As in....the floorboard. The battle lasted long enough to earn me confused glances from two passing vehicles as the U-haul went from sixty to forty to sixty again before Ed pulled himself back into the sunlight, victorious.
Following a few spatted profanities on my part, he stayed on his side of the truck for the remainder of the trip...
It wasn't until after my next stop at the next Love's to gas up and grab a bite to eat (which is really a tale for another paragraph), as I reached for the handle to pull myself back into the driver's seat, that I realized I had separated my shoulder during the battle. I had just reached the Alabama state line and wasn't looking forward to passing through the towns of Where the Hell Am I!? and Is That a Hooker!?, especially since their construction projects were still forcing people to crawl through them at twenty miles per hour...
(Dear Mom, I meant what I said.)
The pain in my shoulder quickly went from 'Ouch' to 'JUST CUT IT OFF!' before I could get to Georgia, forcing me to drive with one hand. Now, I know that most of you kids like to set the seat back and drape a wrist over the steering wheel in an attempt to look good at what you do. But trust me when I say, you don't. It's ten and two for this chick. I could be driving a puttering golf cart, and it'd still be ten and two. Which is a reference to what I feel is a funny story, actually, for I've thrown a grown man from a moving golf cart before. My grandfather. Into a holly bush. Just because I was gettin' comfortable. So, ten and two, folks. Ten and two.
Unless you've separated your shoulder... Then it's ten and a pinky. That's all I could sacrifice. I made it to the Georgia state line as my legs started quivering. Why they would have anything to say about my shoulder, I haven't a clue. The sun had set, my shoulder was threatening to evict tears from their ducts and my legs were causing the cab to shake. My GPS was leading me into the final lefts and rights and exasperated reroutes and frustrated u-turns (she was just as tired as I, apparently) of the trip, as she guided me onto a random street and just left me there!
Claiming that I had arrived at my destination, she patted herself on the back and passed out. Looking around, I realized I was nowhere near my destination. There was a man in house slippers pushing a complaining shopping buggy across my headlights and a cat with half its tail missing diving out of his way and under a porch of a nearby house.
Three words came to mind. Whiskey, Tango and Foxtrot.
I didn't type in the street address but rather just the city and state, and I was lost on the other side of town. And then I heard a voice. My voice! Mocking me!!
I have absolutely no intention of joy riding through town in a U-haul...
Damn.
So I arrived a little later than intended. No big deal. I had twenty extra miles to spare!......
And here I am. New home, sweet home. Where I spent the first two days with my face in the toilet screaming for Ralph. Mississippi's Love's, apparently, had no love for me...
To my friends and family back home, I love and miss you all. Wish me luck, and I'll see you all again.
---The Beginning---
6 comments:
HAHAHA. I love this. I mean, not all of the bad things, but the way you wrote about them. Excellent. I laughed. I cried. I MISS YOU. —ahem— I'll get ahold of myself. Seriously.
I can't wait to read the blog post that comes after I visit you! Whenever that magical time in my life will be.
GOOD LUCK. :)
I love you.
Seriously.
XOXOXOXO
Oh, beware the bees.
And bravo, Edgar.
(Also: the minutes pondering what in the world Whiskey Tango Foxtrot could mean.)
Et, mon ami, c'est une histoire magnifique. Bon, bon, bon. Je Look forward to more!
They're words from the phonetic alphabet, only instead of representing a word they represent an acronym: WTF. ;)
Ha! I love it.
Great cross-country tale! Let me know when you start negotiating movie rights. It would do well on the big screen. :)
P.S. Sorry you ended up sick... Love's should be sued for false advertising.
That, they should be. And did you know, that bee sent a hit man across country to seek revenge just recently? I'm still deciding if it was aggravated or sexual assault. Or both. I'll likely include the tale in an upcoming post...
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