TRIP TO TEXAS AND BACK in 3 DAYS

TRIP TO TEXAS AND BACK in 3 DAYS - August 18 to 20, 2006

Title: 63 honey, 63...

This is a doozy! Filled with fun, laughter, frustration and FEAR!

It all started at the end of July when Alec was involved in an accident while driving the 1965 Polara. Truly, the conditions under which the accident occurred, and his grand attempt to avoid the accident, leaves us all with a "not Alec's fault" feeling. The long and short of it is ... the Polara got trashed. Mostly just superficial damage, but when you're talking about a 41 years old car, it's not an easy task to find replacement body parts.

(sob)

Marc's baby was crashed. Both front fenders, grill, bumper....(shudder)....For years, Marc has loved on that Polara. Bought her presents, sweet talked to her, always shopping for her, and sometimes he even would take her out for a spin just because. When he came home from work and saw her sitting in the driveway looking all crumpled, he broke down and cried.

I can't stand to see a grown man cry, it breaks my heart.

He went through all the emotions of a death in the family. First, disbelief. It's all a dream. Second, anger. How could this happen. Third, sadness. I can't believe this happened. Last, disgust. Send her to the junk yard.

I fought his decision and asked that he wait for awhile before committing her to the earth forever. I truly believed that a little hospital time and she'd be right as rain. Alec and I schemed on ways to find parts for her to get her back on the road. Remember, Alec loves this car, too. At one point, Marc gave the Polara to Alec for his first car to drive. Due to her love of gas, and her need to drink as much of it as possible in as short a time frame as necessary, Alec chose to trade it back to Marc and get a car less addicted to gas. When Marc got her back, he apologized to her for weeks for breaking up with her and spent more and more time with her.

So, while Alec and I were scheming, Marc was shopping for a replacement for his affections. Remarkably, he found a sister to the Polara on EBay. A 1965 Moneco. Same year, same color, but the jazzed up center-fold edition. With a sparkle in his eye and glee in his heart, he patiently courted her and finally won her affections as his own. Now, these internet relationships can be tough on a fella, especially when the target of his love is halfway across the country in Texas. Yes, I said Texas. About 1500 miles from Pennsylvania.

(sigh)

Due to the extreme intensity of his feelings for the Moneco, he didn't trust her in the hands of a common hauling company driver. He knew that driver wouldn't give her the respect and adoration she deserved. He chose to make the drive to visit her and woo her onto an auto carrier to drive back home himself.

To Texas and back? Is he nuts?

(groan)

Knowing that she would require special care and attention on the trip home, he asked me to go with him to drive her with my mad-hauling-skills. Oh, joy. I agreed, mostly because I would be with my best friend in the whole world for four day, all alone, with no interruptions and no bullshit and we could spend our time talking and talking and talking. It was a very selfish reason on my part to join him on this quest to win the affections of the sister Moneco.

(cheer!)

For three days, Marc made list after list, checking and rechecking that he remembered everything we would need and got all the details right. Me? I just hop in the truck and go and figure if I need anything, I'll figure it out on the way there or back. Marc? he likes to pick at the scab of possible disasters until it bleeds and is only then satisfied that all the bases are covered. I was getting a little weary of the list checking, question asking, contingency plans, and all the other nonsense, but forgave him as he's not a road rat like I am.

Wednesday (August 16th) after Aikido class, I arrive home and we're ready to rock and roll. Everything is packed, checked, repacked and the lists have been checked and rechecked. We're off. Down the road we go. Marc is driving, I am the navigator. It was grand.

We drove out to Columbus and stopped for the night at a truck stop around 1:30 AM. We had packed the mattress and pillows, saving time and money by sleeping in the back of the Expedition when we got tired. It was okay the first night, temperatures that evening were in the lower 60's. We were comfortable. I was concerned about the next night, though as we were driving into temps over 100 during the day and only down to the low 90's at night. I figured we'd probably roast in the car like a poor dog left out in the sun. Marc wasn't concerned, he's really a reptile in a former life - has to be because he loves it hot hot hot. I must have been a penguin in my former life because I like it cold cold cold.

We woke up early, cleaned up in the truck stop, got some coffee, ate a donut and got on the road at 7 AM Thursday August 17. It was beautiful. Sun was shining at our backs, the road was smooth and I figured we'd hit Cinncinati after rush hour. Unfortunately, I didn't realize that rush hour in Columbus started at 6:00 AM. We hit it all.

When we left, we decided I would drive and Marc would be the Nagravator for the first leg of the drive. Uh-huh. Remind me not to let him talk me into that again. He is very worried when he's not in control of the vehicle. At one point, traffic was stopped in front of us, I saw it ... judged my distance ... looked int he left mirror to see what was coming and he hollered, "Watch, Dodie, eatch." SCREECH. I hit my brakes so hard I dumped the cooler (and all it's sloshy cold contents) all over the mattress. FUCK!

"What the fuck, Marc?" I look and see that I had a 1/4 mile until the stopped traffic and had plenty of time to slow down.

"Well, you weren't stopping." Marc shrugs

"Of course I wasn't stopping, I have a quarter mile." I roll my eyes.

Marc climbs in the back and scoops all the ice back into the cooler. (sigh) The mattress is soaked and now we're gonna have to sleep on it. (shudder) I'm not happy.

While I'm driving along towards lunch time, I come up with several suggestions for drying the mattress. First, once we get out of the Columbus traffic, I pull over and we pull everything out to assess the damage. Not only is the mattress soaked, but the sheets and quilts are soaked. Fortunately, the pillows were smart enough to run and they escaped to dousing.

Second, we pop the mattress up like a tent in the back to let air flow over and under it. We spread the quilt and sheet out and then I blow heat into the back while we're driving. This wasn't too bad, it was still cool and we had the air on in the front blowing on us so we didn't notice too much the heat blowing in the back.

Third, we roll the back windows down to give additional air flow into the back along the mattress.

When we stop for lunch, I quickly turn the keys over to Marc. I'm done driving, I'll read my book and let him do the work. Then he can stop a quarter mile away if he wants. Don't get me wrong...Marc is the ONLY person I feel comfortable driving me anywhere. After years and years of hauling to rides and hauling sale horses, and driving myself all over the country, I am also like Marc and do not trust anyone else behind the wheel. HOWEVER, when I ride shotgun, I let the driver figure out what he needs to do. (Love you, Marc - I know you don't mean to be a Nagravator).

While we're eating, I make the suggestion to tie the mattress to the roof rack so it will dry. Oh, man...the look I got would have wilted a hundred year old oak tree. I guess driving through Kentucky looking like a hillbilly carrying a camper mattress on the roof of the 4x4 isn't in Marc's trip plans. Drat. I really don't want to sleep on a wet mattress. Fortunately, while we ate lunch the sheet and quilt dried out.

Lunch is over. Off we go. marc's driving and I notice he's much more relaxed now. Sheesh, you'd think he's been reading the ride stories or something. I'm NOT a bad driver! I do thousands of miles a year with a camper and rig full of horses and I haven't killed anyone yet. I may have scared a few years off Connie and Jen, but they're still walking.

It was rather nice to have Marc all to myself for a change. My house is FULL of people...both my son's, Marc's buddy Alan, and my mother in law. It's a very rare occasion that Marc and I are ever alone. I haven't had sex in the living room in years (oops, where did that come from). So, being alone with him, without interruptions or questions or TV or computers was really nice. I'm not sure how he felt about all that, but I rather enjoyed it. He is always my best friend first, and we all know how great it is to have your best friend over for a chat!

So we're making excellent time now that granny isn't driving (oh, yeah - I know what you all call me behind my back. I am perfectly aware that putting on the cruise control at 5 miles over the speed limit is considered "grannyfied" but I dont' care. It gets me where I need to be.) The Expedition actually surprises me on trips like this because she zooms along so nicely.

So, evening is falling and we're getting closer to our goal. My cell phone rings and it's Alec. He's almost in tears trying to figure out how to convince his buddies how to help him get his motor swapped. Then, he's telling me about how Grandma Rose (Marc's mom) went off on him over stuff that wasn't even his fault. He said she accused him of stealing her pack of cigarettes and then was screaming at him for being a thief and a liar and being a bad kid in general. (For those of you just tuning into the Grandma Rose sage, this is a continuing issue. She gets a bee in her bonnet occasionally and goes off on people. Everyone in the house, except me, has been on the biting end of her insanity. I think she avoids me because she knows I'll kick her ass and ask questions later.) But that's a story for another time.

He carries on for a bit, I calm him down, and it feels like I'm back home. While Marc and I discuss his mom's bipolar insanity problems, my cell phone rings again.

It's Sean. He tells me how he asked Grandma Rose to wake him for work at 7:00 AM that morning. She said she didn't know if she'd be up that early so Sean told her that he'd ask Alec in case she didn't get up and would leave her a note. He left her a note, asked Alec and went to bed. Now, Grandma Rose has this horrible thing she does to Sean. Sean is living on the couch right now because Marc's buddy Alan is in Sean's room. Grandma Rose will come down at 6:30 AM and turn on the TV. Doesn't have any respect for Sean sleeping on the sofa, and makes a total annoyance out of herself. We've spoken to her about this several times, but it's like talking to a small child. In one ear and out the other.

So, she comes down and turns on the TV but doesn't wake Sean up for work. Now Sean just started his job and doesn't need to be late on his third day. Alec obviously didn't get up to wake him either. So, here Grandma Rose sits, watching TV but not waking up Sean. He woke up to some loud commercial, saw it was 7:45 and asked Grandma Rose why she didn't wake him. She said she thought that Alec was going to do it. (Right!...this was her being an ignorant b***. She was laughing inside the whole time because that's what she does.)

Okay, now my blood is boiling. Rose does this every time I go away. She stirs up shit and gets everyone wound up then I have to come home and talk to her like an errant four year old. Sean continues his story telling me about how she jumped all over Alec for taking her cigarettes and then jumped all over him for stuff he didn't even do. Almost word for word the same story I just got from Alec not 15 minutes before. A little more drama, because Sean is the King of Drama, but same story. Good, now I know Alec wasn't exaggerating.

In the meantime, Marc is dying to hear the other side of the conversation and it's getting dark out. Instead of paying attention to the road, he's paying attention to me and the phone and he's not making me feel safe....I keep pointing to the road and he keeps looking at me. Man...here I am three states away and I can't escape the drama of my household.

I get off the phone with Sean, reassuring him that all will be well in three days when I return and kick some booty butt. Marc starts drilling me about the phone call and as I fill in the details, he starts getting wound up. (sigh) So much for a peaceful trip to Texas. After about an hour or so of griping, he finally winds down. We stop for some supper, a gas up and we're off again.

He says he's going to drive all the way into Dallas before he stops for the night so we're there and ready to go get the trailer in the morning. Okay -I'm gonna nap because it's getting past my bedtime. He's talking, I'm dozing and time flies on by. Before I know it, it's 1:30 AM and he's pulling off at a truck stop. It's like 94 degrees outside. I kid you not, it's 1:30 AM and it's 94 degrees. How the hell do these people live in heat like this?

We settle in to sleep and guess what? The mattress is dry! And we didn't even have to drive down the road like some kind of Hillbilly parade with it on the roof. Whew.

About 3:30 AM I woke up drenched in sweat. I truly looked like I had just swam in a lake. I opened the door and I swear to you the air that came in was 30 degrees cooler than what was inside the Expedition. We were roasting in there. Since there was a nice breeze coming in, I left to door open and went back to sleep.

Morning. 5:00AM our time, 4:00 AM Texas time, I wake up and go through my morning ritual of stretching, Aikido practice, Sword practice, and coffee. It's 93 degrees. I'm sweating like you don't want to know. I go in the truck stop, shower and change clothes. That feels great for about three minutes before I start sweating again.

I know Marc won't be up for awhile so I make some conversation with a nice trucker. He was from Kansas and was missing his dog. Apparently his dog went with him in the truck and was recently put down due to extreme old age. A mix breed something or another, aged 19. He was very depressed about it and I recommended that he visit a shelter soon and adopt himself a new shotgun buddy. I told him about Kali and how I thought I'd never get another dog after she died and how I found Brandy at a shelter when I wasn't even looking for a dog. She's a good dog!

After I talked to him awhile, I wondered around, sweating some more, then got my book out and started reading. Marc woke up about 7:30 our time, 6:30 Texas time and seemed pretty good to go. He went in the truck stop, cleaned up and got some soda and off we went to find a breakfast and then get the car trailer. I could tell he was excited because he was talking non-stop about the most inane subjects. Now, I know those of you that know my husband don't believe that he EVER talks, or that he has the capability to talk non-stop, rarely coming up for air. I know you all think that he is a mute, but at home, alone with me, he hardly ever shuts up (grin) and I like it that way. Trust me, it's gets tiring always being the one to carry the conversation.

Now, apparently while I had the door open all night trying not to get us suffocated, there were a batch of mosquitoes hovering near just waiting for the opportune time to enter into the Expedition and eat themselves sick on Marc's life blood. I want to know how mosquitoes are living in that hot dry arid hot (did I mention HOT) land of Texas. There wasn't a puddle of moisture to be found for miles around, yet there were over a hundred mosquitoes in the Expedition. Marc's trying to drive and swat skeeters and I'm about to shoot him for scaring me. We stop and get most the critters out before continuing on. They didn't look like our skeeters, either. They were very tiny and very black, but they were busy chompin' on Marc. They didn't bother me (it's very rare for me to get bit by a skeeter, I must taste too sweet for them)

We have directions to the U-Haul place off MapQuest. They seem pretty straight forward. BUT FIRST, let me explain to you about Arkansas and Texas. The main highway runs in the center of two services roads on either side. All the hops, malls, etc are off these service roads. The exit and entrance ramps are like every ten feet off the main highway (which is 6 lanes, three in each direction(. The people down here really know how to drive. It's morning traffic, cars are flowing on and off these ramps and no-one is missing a beat. Merging is no problem for these drivers. Very polite and well choreographed. I was very impressed. HOWEVER, it was very confusing to us as tourists because the numbering wasn't anything like it should be. Block 3100 was next to block 2800 and block 3200 was across the highway on the other side of the service roads. After traveling around and around and around for 15 minutes, we stop at a 7/11 to ask directions. The fella manning the counter says (and this is no lie) "Uh, I'm from California, I don't know where block 3000 is."

What? If you're working here, you must live here and surely you shop here????

Instead of cruising around and around the service roads again, I call the U-Haul and get better directions. MapQuest is great for the long haul, but it leaves a lot to be desired on the city driving stuff. Funny thing is, the U-Haul is the big glass building we passed FOUR MILES before we got into the 3100 and 3200 blocks. That's right. In Texas they can only count up to 5000 then they start numbering at 1000 again. (groan) Apparently, that's accepted behavior.

So, we get to the U-Haul place, it's 10:00 AM our time, 9:00 AM and it is already 98 degrees and hot. The people at the U-haul have the air conditioner set so cold, Marc's teeth are chattering. That just makes it that much worse when you leave the building to go outside. And everything around us is macadam and concrete, so I am sure it is over 100 in the parking area.

The U-haul guy gets a car carrier for us and tells Marc to back into it. Now, Marc isn't the best backer, but this gets about as bad as a person can back. His cell phone rings and it's the guy with the car. Marc is so excited to be talking to him that he can't back straight. I tell him to get out and let me do it while he's on the phone. So he does. Without putting it in park. WHAM. The Exepedition slams into the trailer hitch. Marc quick jumps back in, puts his foot on the brake and puts it in what he thinks is PARK (still talking on the phone). But PARK has a P on it and the indicator is on D (drive) so when he gets out, the Expedition takes off for parts unknown. I push his aside, jump in and take control of the situation (whew). I know this U-haul guy thinks we're a bunch of losers now!

We get all hitched up and the U-haul guy goes in for the paperwork only to return and tell us that this is the wrong trailer. It's reserved to go to California (gods, it's too hot to be doing this all again.) (Marc is still on the phone.)

He unhooks the nice trailer (and it looked almost brand-new) and we drive to the back of the lot to get another car carrier. There are two or three back there, he directs us to the easiest one to get to. I swiftly (and accurately) back into the hitch so he can hook us up. Now this trailer looks like it's had some wear and tear but I don't inspect it too closely because I'm hot and this is U-haul - they inspect their stuff each time it comes in, right???? What am I worried about.

NOTE TO READERS...always check a trailer that gets hooked to your vehicle. I normally have a 12 point inspection I do at each hooking, whether to my trailer or someone else's trailer. I completely ignored my own training rules and only checked the connection to be sure it was properly hooked and wouldn't jump off. That's two of the 12 safety checks. Here ya go.

1) Your hitch is secure

2) Your ball is secure, no cracks in sleeve and cotter pin is secure

3) Trailer is hitched and secured

4) Chains are properly attached

5) All signal indicators are working

6) Running lights are working

7) Tires are properly inflated to the correct pressure

8) Tires are straight in line with each other

9) All doors, rampos, etc are in travel position and secured

10) Towing vehicle tires are inflated to correct pressure

11) Vehicle has gas

12) Vehicle has oil

Being hot and cranky is no reason for me to NOT do my inspection, but I'll tell you - I skipped it and it almost cost me and Marc our lives...and certainly our guardian angels were on double duty keeping us from killing innocent travelers on the road. The true story begins after we load the car on the trailer.

We're hooked, paperwork is completed and check this out ... they wanted two land line phone numbers to call to verify we were who we said we were. WHAT??? I gave you an American Express card to pay for it, gave you our driver's licenses and now you want to call someone? Fine! Call Leah at my work.

Leah thought someone was playing a joke on her at first. (Poor Leah). But she confirmed she knew who Marc Sable was. What the hell was THAT all about?

Off we go to get the car. Trailer tagging along behind. I get on the highway and we get to Steve's house without further ado. I backed that trailer right into the car, perfectly. Steve was impressed and Marc (bless his heart) proudly stated that I was an old pro at hauling, being as I had horses and all. Now, I hope he wasn't indicating I was OLD. That would be depressing.

Steve and Marc stand around in the heat talking about the car, cars in general, repairing the car, the damage on the Polara, etc etc etc SHUT UP ALREADY! I'm sweating to death over here and am almost melted into the pavement, a small splash of liquefied flesh. Geez. Texas sucks!

Finally, we get down to business, exchange money and title and get prepared to leave. It takes us about 30 minutes to load the car using two come-a-longs, but we managed. That fella Steve was kinda useless, he more or less stood around watching us and making suggestions that were absolutely nonsense. That's okay, Marc and I managed.

Car is loaded. We're ready to come on home. YEA!

We left Steve's driveway and I was thinking as we wove out way through the maze of streets in the urban development that the trailer seemed to move funny on the right turns. As we were only moving about 25 mph, I didn't give it too much thought at the time. Out onto the highway we get and I crank it up to 55. Now, the trailer DOES specifically say on the fender "45 mph maximum speed" (yeah, right) like anyone does THAT! We're moving along and the Expedition is having absolutely no troubles with the weight of this vehicle and trailer. It appears to be much lighter than the horse trailer with four horses in it. I settle in for the drive when I begin to feel the trailer swaying. "What the?"

The highway is taking a bend to the right, slight and not at all sharp, on a highway posted 70 mph. The deeper into the turn we get, the harder the trailer is swaying and it starts oscillating the Expedition. I come off the gas, grab ahold of the steering wheel and get her back under control (pant pant). Whew. That was kinda scary. What the hell?

I am slowed down to about 40 and the highway is straight again so she appears to be doing okay. I speed back up to 55 mph. No troubles. As we're cruising along, I begin to realize that the trailer is only being bad when we were turning to the right. Straight and left turns she's fine. Right turns she starts swaying and getting on my nerves. I am trying to imagine driving 1700 miles home like this. It's not a very pretty thought.

We get through Dallas traffic and I am sweating some. The trailer wanted to sway itself into the other lanes of traffic, so I had to keep really slow, around 40mph whenever the road bore to the right. Of course, rush hour drivers behind me were using their horns to their full advantage, but what else could I do.

I drove all day into the night until we got through Memphis, TN. All the way from Texas, through Arkansas, I remained impressed with the other drivers on the road. Courteous, they know how to merge into traffic without causing six accidents, they all maintain a nice flow with traffic, no weaving and bobbing, or going 35 mph (except for me, of course) and I kept watching the roads because my one goal in this trip was to see an Armadillo. I have always wanted to see one wild in nature and my dad promised me I'd see so many on this trip that I'd puke.

Only one other time did she start oscillating behind me, throwing the Expedition into a frenzied dance of white knuckle motion. At that time, we were in Arkansas, on a straight stretch of road and I was feeling a little brazen and kicked it up to 60 mph. It was very scary. If there had been any cars in the lane beside me, we would have wiped them out. We were swerving in both lanes of traffic while I was trying to get it under control. I made Marc call the U-Haul Hot-Line and find out what the hell was going on. While he was calling them, I finally saw an Armadillo - dead on the side of the road (sigh). So much for reaching MY goals.

They recommended we check tire pressure (yep - I had thought of that, but not hard enough to mention we should stop and check tire pressure). So, we got off the next exit and checked tire pressure.

LF = 22 pounds

LR = 30 pounds

RF = 40 pounds

RR = 35 pounds

Now, all four tire recommended cold fill is 65 pounds. Don't the U-Haul people inspect and maintain these vehicles when they come in? Man. That is very unsafe.

So we fill the tires, check the tires on the Expedition, fill up with gas and food and off we go. It's coming dark, so I'm only doing 55. I'm really tired from fighting the trailer all day and as we get into Memphis and i have to fight through the cattle shoots they have set up in the construction zone, I feel myself losing all confidence in my driving skills, hauling abilities and desire to drive the remaining 1100 miles home.

Finally, I can't take it anymore and we pull over for the night. It's hot, 11:30 PM and still over 85 degrees and much more humid here than in Texas. My eyes are burning, my shoulders ache and I just want to get out and walk home.

I keep my spirits up. Marc is very concerned for us and I don't want him to be worried. I figure I'll sleep a couple hours then I'll be ready to fight this trailer for several more hours. I can't imagine why this is so difficult. I remember when we pulled the Polara down to my mom's on a U-Haul trailer, it was fine. Maybe it's the Moneco? I don't know.

We sweat to death all night and wake up sticky and cranky. I'm not happy at all and I look at that trailer back there and I'm ready to cut her free ... we clean up and get on the road by 7:00 AM our time.

We're starting to hit some hills and coming down the hills, the trailer is seriously misbehaving. I can't hardly do faster than 45 or she's swaying out of control, threatening to start oscillating us.

Due to the hills, the highway opens up three lanes for truck traffic to creep up the hills. That's all that saved us.

I am in the middle lane, creeping past a truck in the right lane. The left passing lane is empty and there's really no-one behind us either. Knowing I have to slow down once I crest the hill, when I pass the truck, I move over into the right lane (yes, moving in a right turning direction). The trailer caught the suction from the truck while it was starting it's swaying and it threw up into a full blown oscillation. Back and forth and back and forth. It wiggled us out into the middle lane (thankfully) while I was trying to get it under control. The trucker behind us slammed on his brakes so hard I could see white smoke coming off his trailer tires in my review.

When the front end of the Expedition started lifting up off the road and was being slammed in the far right then the far left lanes, I knew we were in serious trouble. I had no control because the steering tires were airborne. I began using every bit of trailering experience I've ever experienced, heard about or read about. My body was on autopilot, functioning without any thought or reason. Marc said I looked as calm as a cucumber in the evening dew, but inside I was terrified because I knew were were going to be involved in a horrible accident and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

SCREAM

I don't remember what I did, Marc said I was working gas and brake and 4 wheel drive control like a mad-woman. He also said that while he was very frightened by the situation, he had full faith in me to get it under control (little does he know that I had lost ALL faith at this point)

MORE SCREAMING

Finally, I get it stopped. We were bouncing from burm to burm across 3 lanes of highway. Thank god there was no-one else on the road because it was early in the morning on a Saturday in the middle of nowhere. I am very grateful that I have a calm husband, because during that whole episode, all he did was say, "You got 'er, Dodie. You got 'er." If it had been Connie, there would have been a loud piercing little girl scream coming from the passenger seat and we would have wrecked for sure because I would have taken my hands off the wheel to smack her (grin). It's okay, Connie ... I'm used to you.

Once I got off the side of the road, I started shaking like it was 40 below zero wind chill and I was butt naked. Oh, the adrenaline release was horrible.

Marc started looking for a U-Haul center while I drive us along about 40 mph. Even at 40 mph, whenever we'd do a right hand bend in the highway, she'd start swaying. I was so tense that I would have snapped if Marc had touched me.

Soon, Marc saw a huge U-Haul sign. We got off and pulled in.

Prepared for battle, Marc went inside while I took a look at the trailers they had available on the lot. One was trashed in the back - looked like it got rear-ended. Since the one we were driving already had a bent support frame, I wasn't at all interested in that one. The second one had a flat tire on a bent axle. Nope, not that one either. The third one was almost brand new. It seemed to have no visible issues. I wrote down the trailer number and went to find Marc.

Now, it's Saturday morning and there's one guy working the counter. The place was mobbed. I have to say, though, this fella had a cool manner about him...didn't get rushed or get wound up by all the people impatiently waiting. I spent most the time we waited in line calming Marc down so he wasn't mean the U-Haul guy. I reminded him that it wasn't this guy's fault we got a bum trailer.

Finally, our turn. Marc was actually nice and calm when he began the conversation. He explained that the trailer we had picked up in Texas had something wrong with it and it was dangerous to try and continue the trip with it. We wanted to get a replacement and the trailer # xxx out in the lot would do just fine.

"Hmmm," the guy mumbles. "That one is on reserve."

Marc opened his mouth to say something and I could see the tension in his jaw line. I pinched his leg about the same time the guy looked up and saw the "you're going to die" look on Marc's face. He did a double take and changed his tune.

"Well, let me make a call so I can see what we can do."

Ten minutes later, we were holding paperwork on the new trailer and headed out to unload the car, dump the bad trailer, hookup the new trailer, reload the car and get back on the road. This took an hour and a half, in the baking sun, sweating like there's no tomorrow. It went relatively smoothly, though. Marc and I quickly managed to do all the above by ourselves.

Once were were hooked up, being the paranoid people that we are, we checked the trailer top to bottom. Would you know it? The tire pressure was low on all four tires. Two tires below 30 pounds. WHAT THE HELL? I guess this is a note to the readers ... if you rent from U-Haul, they obviously have no inspections in place on their equipment, so do your own so that you're safe.

I borrowed the U-Haul bathroom and took a bath in the sink. I kid you not! I was soaked to the core and had no intentions of driving 14 hours stuck to my seat. I brought in my bar of soap, towel and fresh clothes and made myself at home. Nice thing is, the U-Haul got their bathroom cleaned because I left no evidence behind of my impromptu bathing.

Marc went in next, I can't speak for how clean he was. He cleaned himself up, changed clothes and we were on our way.

WOW! That a difference. No fight, no sway, no troubles. Although - shortly after we got back on the highway, we got into Nashville traffic and some dumb asshole loaded a homemade wooden trailer sky high with cut trees and managed to dump them all over the highway. FORTUNATELY, we were right behind this and got through it before all the cars behind us crashed into each other and spun around and caused major traffic jam ups for the next several hours (I'm sure). Remarkably, if I would have had the other trailer, and did my fancy swerve through the trees on the highway maneuvers, we probably would have died. I truly believe that the fates gave me that first trailer to prevent some poor smuck from trying to drive it and dying in a horrible fire engulfed wreck on the highway somewhere.

Although it took me about 200 miles of pulling the new trailer until I got brave enough to cruise on up to 63 mph and set the cruise control. Any faster than 63 and I did get some shimmy from the trailer. Not a problem, cruise control set to 63 and off we go home. Coming down hills she's get a little shaky, trying to push me and Marc would say, "63 honey, 63." and I'd back it down. Up the hills, no trouble, I could do 90 and she was fine.

Through Kentucky and Ohio we drove until the wee hours of the morning. I was bone tired. The first three hours of the trip (one hour of terror, two hours of sweating my butt off switching trailers) wore me out. I finally had to stop driving around midnight. We were having a hard time finding a truck stop that was empty. Finally, we pulled over in this little rinky dink place where the 24/7 McDonalds was the local teen hang-out. They were noisy, but I didn't care. I needed some shut eye.

There really is no "rest of the story". We got up around 6:30, had some coffee and drove home, using "63 honey, 63" as an inside joke. And still today, whenever Marc gets wound up and on a roll, I quietly say, "63 honey, 63." and he smiles and backs off.

We arrived safely at 1:00 PM Sunday afternoon. Kinda a let down but we were just grateful to get on home. See - here we are in the driveway, photo taken moments after we pulled in.

And this is the new car - a 1965 Moneco. Fully loaded with air conditioning, power windows, power brakes, and all the bells and whistles available back then.

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