“Look, it just hit 92,” Peabody said, while pointing to the temperature gauge on the dashboard. I just grumbled and cast a quick eye toward the GPS, trying to figure out if I had time to swing left and pass some traffic before the next exit. Since Erin and Amanda were in the car behind me, I decided to just be patient. The next highway was coming up in under two miles anyway.
I stretched out my arms, feeling the sweaty skin pull away from the leather interior. The wind roared through front seat of the car, causing my left ear to go partially deaf. The sun continued to beat down on the left side of the car, further scorching my arm. The ten plus hours I had spent sitting in the driver’s seat so far was causing my ass to go numb. My back was seizing up after three straight nights of sleeping on the floor. We were on mile 670 of the drive, and there was no air conditioning. I was miserable.
I moved into the exit ramp, and prepared to hop onto the last freeway of the day. The freeway that would take me to my new home.
“Hey. Now it’s 93!”
**********
Throughout the day, I had been watching the temperatures steadily climb from a comfortable 51 degrees to the low 90s. Certainly, a good part of the dramatic climb was due to the fact that we left Michigan at 5:15 a.m.
The alarms went off in our nearly-empty condo at 3:30 a.m…a scant five hours after going to sleep. I got up and splashed water on my face, taking a mental inventory of what still needed to be done. After coming home from the last meal with Erin’s family the afternoon before, I had shifted into gear.
Everything that was left from the movers was put into boxes and suitcases. The few things that we would need on Sunday morning were grouped together for easy packing the next morning. The small mountain of garbage that was generated from the moving efforts was set out for the Monday morning pick up. The furniture and goods that we were leaving behind for the Salvation Army were arranged in the garage to provide easy access.
Still, work remained. I had overestimated the amount of space we had in the cars, and had to pack very carefully. The cats had to be put in their crates, the litter box cleaned, the food and water packed away with easy access. A few dirty areas of the condo still needed to be cleaned. Our bedding had to be folded and forced into the cars.
I walked back into living as Erin began to get up. After a brief hug and a few laments about the hour, she sprang into action inside as I hauled suitcases and boxes to the cars. An hour passed by, and I walked into the living room, seeing that all that was left was a bag of trash and the cat carriers.
I put my arms around Erin as we took our last look around the place that we had called home for a year and a half. The place where we adopted a cat together. The place where we lived together for the first time. The place where I proposed to her.
Tears flowed down Erin’s cheeks for a brief moment, and then it was over. It was time to leave.
**********
The drive went by fairly quickly. We stopped after 130 miles or so for some breakfast. The next stop was 190 miles later for gas…I made sure that we had crossed out of Ohio and into West Virginia before I handed over enough money to fill up two cars.
During that time, the scenery gradually improved. As we moved from Michigan through Ohio, the road was primarily flat, straight, and without any interesting features. In the southeastern part of Ohio, however, the terrain began to take shape. Hills and curves became the norm on the road. Forests full of trees materialized. A doe stood on the side of the road, drinking from a small pond, oblivious to the traffic that flew by twenty feet away.
Nothing, however, could have prepared me for West Virginia. Rolling through the Appalachians, spectacular views were the norm. We saw lakes and rivers. We saw rounded, tree covered mountains. We saw lush valleys full of vegetation. We even saw the golden dome of the West Virginia state capitol.
Right as the climbs and descents and twists and turns of the mountains began to wear on me, we passed into Virginia. Almost immediately, the mountains began to flatten out some. Oh, there were still peaks and valleys (and a few tunnels for good measure), but the elevation and directional changes were coming less frequently.
After a final stop for lunch and gas, we drove on through Virginia and entered North Carolina.
**********
As we passed the sign announcing the state line, I turned to Peabody and officially welcomed him to my state. After all, we Carolinians are known for our southern hospitality. Not like you Yankee bastards.
The first thing I noticed was the giant grove of yellow wildflowers growing in the median. I then saw that similar flower beds were set up every few miles in the medians, and along the highway entrance and exit ramps. It was a minor touch, to be sure. The natural views were still spectacular, even if they weren’t from several thousand feet up, as they were in West Virginia.
Nonetheless, the beauty of the flowers struck me. I was absurdly pleased by the thought and effort that went into them. Maybe I was just glad that the road wasn’t full of potholes, and the flowers weren’t orange construction barrels. Whatever the case, my excitement level increased, as did the temperatures.
Ever since leaving the mountains, the temperature had gone up fifteen degrees in a little over an hour. With no A/C, it was noticeable. I constantly peeled myself off the seat, and anticipated the cool blast of the air conditioning in my new apartment.
**********
Finally. The drive was over. The lease was signed. The checks were passed over. The keys were given to us. The cats were set free. The luggage was unloaded. The cool air washed over my body. I sat back into the reclining camping chair that would serve as the centerpiece of the furniture for the next day or two and closed my eyes briefly.
After taking in a deep breath, I looked around. I had set the TV on the small island diving the kitchen from the living room. Beyond that, the kitchen, with it’s bleached oak cabinetry and white appliance and countertops spread out, creating an open space to cook. To the left of the kitchen was a large utility room with washer and dryer and two hiding cats. The living room, with its cathedral ceilings and cream-colored walls, stretched out, giving us lots of open space. On the other end of the apartment, the two bedrooms and two bathrooms sat empty, save for a few suitcases and assorted toiletries.
A season one episode of The Simpsons was in the DVD player. Peabody sat to my left, alternately watching the show and perusing his college football preview magazines. The women had run to Blockbuster to get us movies for the evening, since the cable was not yet installed. The pizza was ordered, and my mouth was watering in anticipation.
I kicked up the footrest on my camping chair again, and leaned as far back as it would allow. While scientists on the TV debated about whether Homer was a “sub-normal human” or a “brilliant beast”, I just smiled.
The next chapter of my life was beginning, and we were only on page one.
