One of the weird things about being a parent with parents that are no longer with you is that you don’t have anyone to go back to fact check your memories. My versions are now the versions of record, even if they are only true through my hazy lens of the past.
Lately, I have been thinking about when I finally graduated college from Salisbury University in December of 1999 and got a job across the country for a radio station in Colorado Springs. I am not sure how accurate this version of events is – but it’s what I remember, and there’s no one around to correct me, so we are going to call it the truth.
I found the job posting on a radio industry website and sent off my witty cover letter and aircheck cassette tape, without giving much thought to the logistics of what would happen if I got the job. For my previous moves, in and out of college dorms and apartments or across town when I didn’t want to live with my parents anymore, I had always been moving into a situation with furniture. In those cases, I just loaded up my clothes into trash bags, put my computer on top of the pile, and hauled all my worldly belongings to the new spot in the back of my hatchback. Moving was easy and could be done in an afternoon.
Lo and behold, the station flew me out for an interview and audition (a trip on which I learned the very real power of altitude on alcohol consumption, but that’s a story for another day). While I was in town, I made a few friends (see the aforementioned alcohol consumption) and found an apartment to move into if I got the job. The catch was that this time, it was unfurnished – which meant that moving was going to be much more complicated. My new-found friends and I exchanged AOL screennames, and they promised to help me move in when I got to town.
My parents were so relieved that I had finally graduated college (after 5.5 years!) and that I had landed a job with a real paycheck and benefits, that they agreed to help me get everything together for a move. They gave me one of their old couches. My mom and I went to a secondhand store to buy me a teeny tiny kitchen table and chairs. They let me take my bedroom set, including the bedspread and the beach-themed art from the walls. My clothes still went into trash bags, and my computer still went on top of the pile.
My dad worked for UPS for his entire career, and for his part in this process, he agreed to apply his decades of delivery/logistical experience to “get the package delivered.” He rented a U-Haul with a trailer hitch, so we could tow my Hyundai Accent, and he mapped out the most efficient route to take. He estimated that the drive would take 3 days. My mom followed behind him on the map and marked where all of the Cracker Barrels were on the route so we would always know where to stop and get a “good meal”. I sent AOL messages to my new friends to tell them when we would be there and make sure they would help to unload when we got there.
The plan was to drive to somewhere around Columbus, OH on the first day and then, make it to Kansas City on the second day. That would get us to Colorado Springs in the early evening of the third day and give my dad time to catch a plane back home so he could go to work on Monday. We would find hotels in each area that were close to the highway that would allow us to park our U-Haul in the back of the parking lot.
On the morning we left, I hugged my mom goodbye in the driveway and bounced into the passenger seat of the U-Haul with high spirits and excitement. I was on my way to start my “real” adult life and couldn’t wait to get started. It never occurred to me how hard it might have been for her to watch her first-born climb into the cab of a moving truck to move almost 2000 miles away. I was saying hello to this next phase of my life, and she was saying goodbye to parenting me as she had always known it.
Dad fired up the truck and we pulled slowly out of the driveway, honking and waving until we couldn’t see the rest of my family anymore. Before we even got out of the neighborhood, we made the horrifying realization that the radio in the truck was broken. I think we were both nervous – 2000 miles of a road trip with nothing to occupy us but talking to each other was a scary proposition. But there was nothing to be done except move forward, because as my dad reminded me regularly, he “always got the package there on time.”
So, we aimed for Columbus, marking off the Cracker Barrels we passed on the map as milestones. After years of road trips with my family, I knew better than to ask how much further it was to our destination or to ask to stop unless it was absolutely critical. When we pulled into Columbus to find our resting spot for the night, my dad informed me that we had made “great time”, which was always a point of pride for any road trip, but especially important on this one covering so many miles. We briefly called Mom to check in and turned in for the night.
The next day, we woke up early and headed for Kansas City, but not without some challenges. We drove through St. Louis in blizzard conditions, but my dad, with his years of experience with UPS, felt comfortable just going slow, and assured me that we would be fine because the truck was so heavy. (I don’t know how true this is – but I have never tested this assumption since.)
I continued to check off the Cracker Barrels on the map, and he continued to make mental calculations on drive time and road conditions. When we finally arrived in Kansas City, we were both so worn out that we weren’t talking much anymore. We didn’t even feel like trying to find a Cracker Barrel for dinner. Instead, we found a hotel and were ready to hunker down for the night. Right before nodding off, I remembered something I had left in the cab of the truck that I wanted to retrieve. Dad threw me the keys and fell asleep before I returned to the room.
In the morning, when it was time to go, my dad asked me for the keys – and my heart sunk when I realized I couldn’t find them. My worst fear was confirmed after I ran out to the truck and realized that not only were the doors locked, but I could see the keys sitting on the passenger seat. My best guess was that in my hurry to grab my stuff and get back in the room in the dark night of winter, I put the keys down on the seat to free up my hands – and then, manually locked the door with my elbow before bumping it closed with my hip. (Weird that I wasn’t diagnosed with ADHD until I was in my 40’s…)
We called someone to come and help us, who was able to get us back into the car about 90 minutes later. I don’t know how much it cost to get someone to come out on a Sunday morning, but my dad called that my housewarming present. Now, our schedule was in jeopardy, which was never a good thing. I knew to be quiet to let him concentrate on driving.
Driving through Kansas was a surreal experience. After getting through Kansas City, it felt like just one long stretch of highway with cornfields on either side. There were no more Cracker Barrels to check off on my map. It started to feel like we were not actually moving, kind of like being in a snowstorm when the snow is coming at your windshield, like we had in St. Louis. Every hour or so, Dad would give me an update on how far we had gotten, but that was the only way I knew we were ever going to get out of Kansas.
I finally started to notice the terrain changing a little once we arrived in Colorado, and as we made our way to Colorado Springs, we saw the faintest outline of the Rockies on the horizon. As we got closer and closer, the mountains seemed to grow and grow up out of the earth towards the sky – one of the most beautiful sites I have ever seen, still to this day. The mood in the truck changed as it became clear that we had “made up time” and would be on schedule after all.
Later, my dad would remember that trip fondly. He always said it was one of the best times with me, largely because of how much we got to talk, but also, because I knew when to shut up. I don’t remember all that we talked about, of course, but I do remember having a lot more fun than I thought we would. He trotted out his old tried and true stories from his youth and shared a lot of stories about his work life that I had never heard before. Dad asked me questions from time to time, too, but for a lot of the ride, we just sat together in companionable silence, which was a new experience for us.
After we arrived in Colorado, it was kind of a blur for me. Thankfully, my new friends actually showed up to help us move my meager belongings into my second-floor apartment. Our schedule was tight – he had to make his flight to get back for work on Monday, so we were moving fast from the minute we got to town. I don’t remember returning the truck or taking my dad to the airport, although, I obviously must have done that. I also don’t remember how we said goodbye to each other – although, if I think about it, we were really doing that for 2000 miles as we drove cross country without a radio. In hindsight, I think he probably set it up that way on purpose, and I agree with him, that it was one of the best times we ever had together, snow storm/lock out/broken radio/Kansas, and all.
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