T-minus 10 hours to Day 1
I usually sleep at my grandparent's house, which is only 15-20 minutes from my place, the night before a trip. It's just easier to wake up there so early in the morning.
Day 1: July 1, 2017: Marion, AR: 371m/597km
The rough estimate for this trip was 200 hours of driving time and over 13,000 miles. Leaving July 1 at 8:00a.m. Eastern. I woke up and sent a text to my mother, who lives down the street from my grandparents to ask if she was going to see us off. She was in the kitchen before I had gotten out of bed, brushed my teeth, and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. My mother went through her usual motherly concerns; "be careful, don't walk, talk, and chew bubblegum at the same time," stuff. My grandmother was finishing up in the kitchen while my grandfather and I were putting on helmets, checking our straps and locks, and filling up our water bottles. We jump up on the bikes, my mother and grandmother were ready to wave goodbye, and film our take-off; we waved as we passed them. It only takes a few minutes to get down the mountain to the freeway ramp, with a brief pit-stop to fuel up. After my grandfather had finished fueling and was resetting his fuel gauge does he realize that he didn't give my grandmother a hug or a kiss goodbye.
"Oh no. I forgot."
"Forgot what, Opa?"
"I forgot to say goodbye! No hug, no nothing, just left."
I offered up to turn around, he said that it would just have to wait until we made it back; and with that, we were off to Marion, Arkansas. After about 150 miles, I had a just over 1/4 of a tank of gas but, I was ready to stand up. At least, I had cruise control and could stretch my arms and back a bit. It wasn't too long before we were pulling through Memphis and into Marion, Arkansas. The mosquitos were intense and relentless. I thought that they might carry me away. That says a lot.
Day 1: July 1, 2017: Marion, AR: 371m/597km
The rough estimate for this trip was 200 hours of driving time and over 13,000 miles. Leaving July 1 at 8:00a.m. Eastern. I woke up and sent a text to my mother, who lives down the street from my grandparents to ask if she was going to see us off. She was in the kitchen before I had gotten out of bed, brushed my teeth, and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. My mother went through her usual motherly concerns; "be careful, don't walk, talk, and chew bubblegum at the same time," stuff. My grandmother was finishing up in the kitchen while my grandfather and I were putting on helmets, checking our straps and locks, and filling up our water bottles. We jump up on the bikes, my mother and grandmother were ready to wave goodbye, and film our take-off; we waved as we passed them. It only takes a few minutes to get down the mountain to the freeway ramp, with a brief pit-stop to fuel up. After my grandfather had finished fueling and was resetting his fuel gauge does he realize that he didn't give my grandmother a hug or a kiss goodbye.
"Oh no. I forgot."
"Forgot what, Opa?"
"I forgot to say goodbye! No hug, no nothing, just left."
I offered up to turn around, he said that it would just have to wait until we made it back; and with that, we were off to Marion, Arkansas. After about 150 miles, I had a just over 1/4 of a tank of gas but, I was ready to stand up. At least, I had cruise control and could stretch my arms and back a bit. It wasn't too long before we were pulling through Memphis and into Marion, Arkansas. The mosquitos were intense and relentless. I thought that they might carry me away. That says a lot.
Comments
Post a Comment