Epic Trip Day 1: Mountain View to Mojave
Dec. 28th, 2003 08:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninevirtuesI've finally gotten unpacked and mail-capable again, so I can now tell the story of my epic trip across the country.
My plan: Load the last few things in the U-haul, drive it to the U-haul place and get the car trailer and car hooked to it, then leave the Bay Area by 10:30 AM.
Actual: Nope! Andrew and Charlie were kind enough to come over, ostensibly to help move the last few large items, but they promptly found themselves in for much more than advertised. (Thanks, guys! I can't tell you how much I appreciated the help.) There was more stuff remaining than I expected; it all had to be loaded and tied down; and some of the loading process naturally had to be finessed and discussed. And this was after I'd loaded most of the boxes. Sheesh!
I finally got going around 2:30 PM-- with a full u-haul, full Rav4 being towed behind it, and my computer and suitcase wedged into the passenger seat of this truck. I had hoped to make Flagstaff that day, but was going to be happy to make it to Barstow.
Do I need to tell you, in great detail, that it was frankly terrifying to drive that thing? It was big, with minimal visibility, and I was acutely aware that I was towing an expensive (well, it's a Rav4, so it was expensive for me) behind it. Curiously, freeways and highways were easiest; I got on, picked a lane 2-3 lanes away from the fast lane but NOT a lane that people merged into and out of; and stayed there-- allowing an enormous following distance, just in case. (Yes, it took a very long time to stop. I was acutely aware of that. Also, I didn't want a Rav4 for a backrest. Bay Area commute traffic was... an adventure.
I did get a chance to hear some Christmas music I'd never heard before. The u-haul was equipped with a radio, but no CD or cassette, so I was going to depend on the radio for music. This turned out to be a good thing and a bad thing. (Hey, I'd never heard "Leroy the Redneck Reindeer" before I passed through Hanford, California late at night at Christmastime. I'll bet you haven't had that dubious pleasure either.)
I was trying to make it to Barstow, but I was tired out by the time I reached Mojave. I stopped; I found a motel; I'd been warned that motels along I-40 were rat-traps hazardous to life and limb, but really now-- I didn't have a problem at any of the motels I stayed at.
I take that back. At this particular one, I was stopped in the lobby by a terribly earnest young Asian guy with limited English. He was applying to graduate school (which earned him my instant sympathy) and trying to write his entrance essay (which earned him more sympathy from me) and wanted help editing it.
He was applying to Oral Roberts University. (Dial down the sympathy meter.) And I did give him some help, but he would not go away. Even after I told him I was tired, and not likely to be any further help to him, he insisted on reading the entire essay to me, solely out of his own anxiety. (His lack of ability to hear the words "Stop talking and go away!" may make him an excellent evangelist, I don't know.)
Ladies and Gentlemen, there you have it: Several people worried aloud to me that I was driving across the country by myself. But really now: Three thousand miles on I-40, and the only person who would not take "no" for an answer was a holy roller trying to get into graduate school. Everyone else was kind and polite. I suspect that we worry too much about women traveling by themselves, no?
My plan: Load the last few things in the U-haul, drive it to the U-haul place and get the car trailer and car hooked to it, then leave the Bay Area by 10:30 AM.
Actual: Nope! Andrew and Charlie were kind enough to come over, ostensibly to help move the last few large items, but they promptly found themselves in for much more than advertised. (Thanks, guys! I can't tell you how much I appreciated the help.) There was more stuff remaining than I expected; it all had to be loaded and tied down; and some of the loading process naturally had to be finessed and discussed. And this was after I'd loaded most of the boxes. Sheesh!
I finally got going around 2:30 PM-- with a full u-haul, full Rav4 being towed behind it, and my computer and suitcase wedged into the passenger seat of this truck. I had hoped to make Flagstaff that day, but was going to be happy to make it to Barstow.
Do I need to tell you, in great detail, that it was frankly terrifying to drive that thing? It was big, with minimal visibility, and I was acutely aware that I was towing an expensive (well, it's a Rav4, so it was expensive for me) behind it. Curiously, freeways and highways were easiest; I got on, picked a lane 2-3 lanes away from the fast lane but NOT a lane that people merged into and out of; and stayed there-- allowing an enormous following distance, just in case. (Yes, it took a very long time to stop. I was acutely aware of that. Also, I didn't want a Rav4 for a backrest. Bay Area commute traffic was... an adventure.
I did get a chance to hear some Christmas music I'd never heard before. The u-haul was equipped with a radio, but no CD or cassette, so I was going to depend on the radio for music. This turned out to be a good thing and a bad thing. (Hey, I'd never heard "Leroy the Redneck Reindeer" before I passed through Hanford, California late at night at Christmastime. I'll bet you haven't had that dubious pleasure either.)
I was trying to make it to Barstow, but I was tired out by the time I reached Mojave. I stopped; I found a motel; I'd been warned that motels along I-40 were rat-traps hazardous to life and limb, but really now-- I didn't have a problem at any of the motels I stayed at.
I take that back. At this particular one, I was stopped in the lobby by a terribly earnest young Asian guy with limited English. He was applying to graduate school (which earned him my instant sympathy) and trying to write his entrance essay (which earned him more sympathy from me) and wanted help editing it.
He was applying to Oral Roberts University. (Dial down the sympathy meter.) And I did give him some help, but he would not go away. Even after I told him I was tired, and not likely to be any further help to him, he insisted on reading the entire essay to me, solely out of his own anxiety. (His lack of ability to hear the words "Stop talking and go away!" may make him an excellent evangelist, I don't know.)
Ladies and Gentlemen, there you have it: Several people worried aloud to me that I was driving across the country by myself. But really now: Three thousand miles on I-40, and the only person who would not take "no" for an answer was a holy roller trying to get into graduate school. Everyone else was kind and polite. I suspect that we worry too much about women traveling by themselves, no?
