This past month my wife and I moved 900 miles from our former home to Texas. My wife and her mother drove in the same car and I followed my dad, who drove a 16 foot Budget truck. The move was dreadful. Driving 900 miles behind my father, who is—like myself—a very poor driver, was grisly. Flat tire, frightening locals, road exhaustion, and moving stress made the trip all but a nightmare.
At one point near the end of the trip we ran into a serious summer thunderstorm in a large city. Approaching the storm from 10 miles away made it appear as if midnight had descended on the city at 4:00 in the afternoon. Torrents of rain splashed my windshield, break lights were hidden by blinding bursts of lightening, and thunder rattled the windows of my CRV. Sweat gushed from my hands and dripped down my forearms as I white-knuckle gripped the steering wheel. Without GPS, map, or the ability to use my cellphone while I drive, I followed my dad at uncomfortably close distances. A deluge of water drowned my windshield with every puddle. I was dizzy with stress and certain tragedy would ensue. We later found out that the front right tire of the Budget truck had been punctured by a roadside nail during this storm. Mercifully, the tire did not deflate until after we had arrived at our hotel.
However, excluding the flat tire, a couple arguments between traveling parties, and and a few bouts of panic, the road trip ended without incident. My mother-in-law and Dad left shortly after we got the apartment settled. So we’re here now, in an unfamiliar place, without familiar people. Though it was hard to leave everyone, my wife and I have found that the distance from others brings us closer together. We anticipate the adventures to come, the visits to and from friends and family, and more Tex-Mex.