But this past week found me staying in two different hotels, in two different cities, some 9 hours apart from each other—and neither close to the rick-man’s and my homestead. This trip did not involve the rick-man; this trip did not involve our beloved condo-on-wheels; and this trip did not involve my binoculars or hiking boots. This trip was about my supporting a family member's move from City A to City B. (Not to mention one dog, one U-Haul truck, two cars and three-digit temperatures.)
The news is all good. The trip successfully moved a family member. No one got seriously hurt; no one got extremely ill; and no one was overly ugly to one another. The adverbs speak for themselves.
I’ve experienced many personal moves across states and years, but this particular move gave me a new role and a new experience—helping to keep this particular Good Dog a happy traveler:
The second leg of the trip involved nine hours of travel in three-digit temperatures. It was a classic tortoise and hare story as the U-Haul traveled at slower speeds than my car-and-dog team, but the U-Haul made fewer stops (in fact just one). The car-and-dog team stopped four times for dog walks, dog drinks and associated potty stops. I snapped this photo of one of several times the SUV “hare” passed the U-Haul “tortoise”:
A week in hotels is this RVers nightmare:
But I’m dreaming of cooler fall temperatures and wandering throughout the southwest with the rick-man, our condo-on-wheels and its luxuries of bath, kitchen, bed and rice steamer!
I’m now counting the weeks until: