After a restless night, not aided by the news of Osama Bin Laden's death, I got up at 4:00 a.m. to complete final preparations for our trip north through North Carolina, Virginia, Pennsylvania and New York. I spent a couple of hours making cookies that have enough fiber to qualify as pot scrubbers, an essential for old people on the road. (Am I right?) I don't know how I could still have had anything to pack since I had been carrying stuff to the RV for five days. I began to feel like a pack mule. But there was still stuff to cram in the corners. I had mulched the garden deeply yesterday, but had to run the sprinkler for a while anyway. I washed the sheets and remade our bed so things will be ready when we return. At last, when I was sure I had all the essentials and a good many nonessentials, I packed my sewing machine and some material. I even had room for some yarn. I really hope this cures some of the restlessness I have on some days. I was EXHAUSTED by the time I hit the shower.
We hit the road at about 12:15, and, again, I was EXHAUSTED. Larry, however, had plans for me. Relax, not that. He had warned and warned me that he expected me to drive shortly after we got on I40. We had about 60 miles to go before we got off I40 and on to 117. Luckily, before I took the driver's seat, we hit a short distance of road work so I could only drive about 30 miles. It was the longest 30 miles of Larry's life. Immediately after I got back the RV on the highway, Larry started yelling, "Move over, move over. If you run this thing off the road, we're gonna turn over. Move over!!!" I kept telling him my dots (a trick we learned at LazyDays driver training) showed I was between the lines. Finally, after I didn't run over the washboards on the road edge, he put his tongue between his teeth, bit down and grabbed the armrests like a vice.
So 30 miles and no catastrophes later, Larry took back the wheel and we were motoring along as usual, me with my tongue between my teeth and him oblivious. We had made several turns and exits on some road and ended up on another road-construction area. Suddenly Larry looked at the camera that shows the back of the RV and the car we are towing and yelled, "Where's the car? I can't see the car! The car is gone!"
I let go of my tongue and yelled, "STOP! STOP! We have to go back."
Larry said, "Go to the back and look out the back window." How can he be so reasonable, when I have visions of Andy's little gray Nissan being ravaged by 18-wheelers? Still a quandary. I stumbled to the back, and, sure enough, there was the car, trundling along behind.
"What had happened?", you ask? Apparently the camera had some features of which we were unaware . Apparently one can manually turn on the side cameras, not just by turning on the turn signal,as we thought. In fiddling with the GPS someone had hit the button that turned on the side camera. Who did this dastardly deed, we will never know who did it. But bottom line, we learned some good things. 1. Our hearts can take more stress than we would have thought. 2. Larry thinks faster on his feet in a vehicle emergency. (I'm limiting that to vehicles because give Larry a sick kid or dirty diaper and he just disappears.) 3. We had a perfect reason to have a drink, make that several drinks, that evening.
We hit the road at about 12:15, and, again, I was EXHAUSTED. Larry, however, had plans for me. Relax, not that. He had warned and warned me that he expected me to drive shortly after we got on I40. We had about 60 miles to go before we got off I40 and on to 117. Luckily, before I took the driver's seat, we hit a short distance of road work so I could only drive about 30 miles. It was the longest 30 miles of Larry's life. Immediately after I got back the RV on the highway, Larry started yelling, "Move over, move over. If you run this thing off the road, we're gonna turn over. Move over!!!" I kept telling him my dots (a trick we learned at LazyDays driver training) showed I was between the lines. Finally, after I didn't run over the washboards on the road edge, he put his tongue between his teeth, bit down and grabbed the armrests like a vice.
So 30 miles and no catastrophes later, Larry took back the wheel and we were motoring along as usual, me with my tongue between my teeth and him oblivious. We had made several turns and exits on some road and ended up on another road-construction area. Suddenly Larry looked at the camera that shows the back of the RV and the car we are towing and yelled, "Where's the car? I can't see the car! The car is gone!"
I let go of my tongue and yelled, "STOP! STOP! We have to go back."
Larry said, "Go to the back and look out the back window." How can he be so reasonable, when I have visions of Andy's little gray Nissan being ravaged by 18-wheelers? Still a quandary. I stumbled to the back, and, sure enough, there was the car, trundling along behind.
"What had happened?", you ask? Apparently the camera had some features of which we were unaware . Apparently one can manually turn on the side cameras, not just by turning on the turn signal,as we thought. In fiddling with the GPS someone had hit the button that turned on the side camera. Who did this dastardly deed, we will never know who did it. But bottom line, we learned some good things. 1. Our hearts can take more stress than we would have thought. 2. Larry thinks faster on his feet in a vehicle emergency. (I'm limiting that to vehicles because give Larry a sick kid or dirty diaper and he just disappears.) 3. We had a perfect reason to have a drink, make that several drinks, that evening.
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