Start: California.
Scott had picked up The Beast from the dealership the day before, fresh off being rid of some terrible turbo issue that had cause it to go into “limp home mode” (that’s actually an official Sprinter mode. Cute, Germans. Real cute.) on our last long drive. “Limp home mode” means that you can’t drive more than 58mph, with the pedal floored, at any point. Even if that point is going uphill in the Grapevine with a few semis trotting past you. Even if that point is during said uphill climb, with a mad pickup truck passing you on the right as you try to hug the shoulder as much as possible, hazards blinking. Even if that point is during said uphill climb, with mad pickup event, and adrenaline pumping and tempers flaring as you calculate the number of additional hours that “limp home mode” is going to add to the drive, putting you back in LA at 1am, and you have to work the next day. But I digress. So fixing that issue was Preparation Priority No 1. (Hereby known by the acronym PPN1.) Also, a new radiator was called for. Which, incidentally, you all understand, is of course really fucking cheap.
PPN2 was carefully packing The Beast to allow for the westward transport of all my remaining items from the Minneapolis house. The amount of remaining items was nebulously described as “around 10-15 tubs and the chaise.” Plus, I remembered the bookshelves that Dad and I had made, which I thought still lived in the basement. So the back end of The Beast needed to be pretty much empty, as I calculated that packing extremely light for the trip was going to be less painful than having to leave my report on loons and the china angels that Grandma gave me in the alley.
However, packing light isn’t really an option when you’re toting a spoiled and exacting dog who needs two kinds of food as well as cooling equipment in order to survive anything higher than room temperature, and a vegan who must be fed every two hours and literally carries his own hot sauce with him wherever he goes, who has also decided that a 4x5 camera and a professional tripod would be a neat thing to have with him, across the county. Luckily, neither the dog nor the vegan change their clothes, which allowed me two full cubic feet of space to cram in my personal stuff. (I jest. I had about 2.24 cubic feet.)
So the night before takeoff consisted of me just throwing everything I own into a box and a bag and hoping that I had what I needed to survive 1) an outdoor wedding with a 40% chance of thunderstorms 2) seeing my old coworkers whom I wanted to devastate with the illusion of how happy and healthy and tan and well-rested and highly paid I now am (ha) and 3) potential bear attacks. Each of these events needed a thoroughly researched and peer-tested clothing and makeup plan with coordinating shoes. (PPN3).
PPN4 was managing to work a full day and still have the wherewithal to put a few hours into the drive that evening. Caffeine dosing was carefully monitored throughout the day. I tried to keep my day light, so many rounds of online Scrabble were self-prescribed.
PPN5: making sure my office plant from Randy survived my absence. I wrote instructions down and prophylactically bribed my freelancer with chocolate so that he would remember to water it.
All PPN’s finished, Scott and Ferdinand picked me up at 6, I did a quick Anthro return (nb: I said that PPN3 was thoroughly researched), and we were on the 10 by 7:30, despite Scott’s worry that the 10 at that time “sucked balls” in a very misdirected email to my mother. (Sorry mom. Scott’s very embarrassed.) Luckily, the 10 only sucked minor balls, so we made it farther than hoped!
And thus began a cross-country journey that will be chronicled to the best of my ability over the next few days and posts. I assure you that I have forgotten a lot - way more than 2.24 cubic feet’s worth. I also have to say from the outset that Scott, Ferdinand, and The Beast were all absolute champions from tip to tail. Thanks, men. You made this chapter ending feel like a beginning.
Next: Nevada.
