Until the day came that she had to learn to ask for help, anyway.
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I knew nothing about driving a transit van. I just knew it was more than big enough to fit all the furniture and boxes. In the month between the rental agreement and the day of the big drive, stories of transit van thefts – gangs of thieves who were going to Atlanta hotels and breaking into vans in their parking lots, emptying the contents while the owners slept – started filling my news feed.
I made arrangements to stay with my friend Bruce, about halfway between Atlanta and Baltimore. That solved the hotel parking problem. Still, I was worried about the whole trip. The day I picked up the van was one of the hottest of the year. Walking around it with the young clerk, I pointed out to her that indeed, this van had been broken into. In multiple places. Doors missing interior locks. Crowbar marks obvious even to me. We stood dripping sweat in the parking lot. She shrugged. “It’s all we’ve got. It would be a week before I can get another one out here.” I reluctantly got behind the wheel after drawing circles and arrows all over that little van-shaped diagram on the paper. |
Empty, that van bounced all over the road. I began to seriously question what I was going to do. Why didn’t I just call a company who would take this load up there for me in a moving truck? Why do I want to do it myself?
Dave and Chuck, our neighbor, were waiting in the driveway to load the van. When the last chair was tied down, we gathered in the air-conditioned house for some iced tea. Chuck asked, “You going to be ok driving that thing? It’s huge!” “At least it’s only one way,” I replied. Chuck left, Dave and I showered and went out for a nice dinner. Before we left, he took my photo to send to Anne.
Dave and Chuck, our neighbor, were waiting in the driveway to load the van. When the last chair was tied down, we gathered in the air-conditioned house for some iced tea. Chuck asked, “You going to be ok driving that thing? It’s huge!” “At least it’s only one way,” I replied. Chuck left, Dave and I showered and went out for a nice dinner. Before we left, he took my photo to send to Anne.
In the morning the drive began. It was exhausting. Every gust of wind sent the van into shudders. The automatic shift clunked and felt like it was going to stall between 4th and 5th, so I kept the van in the right lane at about 55 mph, maximum. This was going to be a long day. By the end of the drive, the only thing keeping me going was knowing I didn’t have to be back in the van until I’d had a good night’s sleep.
I pulled into Bruce’s townhouse complex and parked across the street. Wow, that’s odd – I’m parking next to an identical van. Unbelievably, it belonged to Bruce. And we went out to dinner in that, his car being out of town with his wife. OMG. Back bouncing in a high seat again.
Over a large margarita I poured out my driving difficulties, and Bruce taught me the basics of van handling. What to do in the wind gusts. How to stay in lane without working so hard. How to get past the shift-clunk and get it up to speed. I bought him dinner.
Driving now significantly smoother, I had 8 road hours to think on day two. Normally I just call people to pass the time. No modern technology here. I put in my ear buds to call Dave and let him know I was on the road. Why hadn’t I thought of this the day before? Road noise vanished. I could think.
I was on my way to retire from my summer university teaching. There was still a lot to consider about letting go, giving my replacements the reins. Mostly, I worried that I would not step back far enough this summer. I wanted them to feel trusted and ready to go. I was teaching a class I had never taught before and I was unready and nervous. I didn’t want to leave on a bad note in any way. But oh, I was ready to leave and not have to do this drive another summer. If I hadn’t already been ready, the van would have taught me that lesson. I laughed.
I thought about the remaining shelves in the basement full of things. I realized I was not content even with this much gone. More was leaving when I got home in a month and I was fired up to do it.
The van and I slowly made friends. I got it up to 65 mph before I was mired in rush-hour traffic in Washington DC. I finally arrived at Anne’s for a week of unpacking and helping her move in. I even parallel parked that sucker on the busy city street.
“Mom! You’re here!” Anne greeted me with a smile and a huge hug. It was all worth it.
I pulled into Bruce’s townhouse complex and parked across the street. Wow, that’s odd – I’m parking next to an identical van. Unbelievably, it belonged to Bruce. And we went out to dinner in that, his car being out of town with his wife. OMG. Back bouncing in a high seat again.
Over a large margarita I poured out my driving difficulties, and Bruce taught me the basics of van handling. What to do in the wind gusts. How to stay in lane without working so hard. How to get past the shift-clunk and get it up to speed. I bought him dinner.
Driving now significantly smoother, I had 8 road hours to think on day two. Normally I just call people to pass the time. No modern technology here. I put in my ear buds to call Dave and let him know I was on the road. Why hadn’t I thought of this the day before? Road noise vanished. I could think.
I was on my way to retire from my summer university teaching. There was still a lot to consider about letting go, giving my replacements the reins. Mostly, I worried that I would not step back far enough this summer. I wanted them to feel trusted and ready to go. I was teaching a class I had never taught before and I was unready and nervous. I didn’t want to leave on a bad note in any way. But oh, I was ready to leave and not have to do this drive another summer. If I hadn’t already been ready, the van would have taught me that lesson. I laughed.
I thought about the remaining shelves in the basement full of things. I realized I was not content even with this much gone. More was leaving when I got home in a month and I was fired up to do it.
The van and I slowly made friends. I got it up to 65 mph before I was mired in rush-hour traffic in Washington DC. I finally arrived at Anne’s for a week of unpacking and helping her move in. I even parallel parked that sucker on the busy city street.
“Mom! You’re here!” Anne greeted me with a smile and a huge hug. It was all worth it.
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