Au Revoir. Tchau. Bye, bye. Etc.

It is time for a new phase of life – graduate school at Thunderbird. Last Tuesday I found out that I was accepted with scholarship. This Tuesday the movers arrived. Them movers finished loading the truck at 1:00pm. I was on the road 9 minutes later. As I write this, I’m in a hotel in Kingston, Tennessee. I’ve traveled around 480 miles. Only around 2,000 left.

The past week had been a complete flurry. I’d traveled back from visiting my folks after dad’s heart attach and packed up my 2,500 pounds of household goods in a week. That said, waves of love and support from friends and family has been overwhelming. I’m so blessed. Last night (Monday), a baker’s dozen gathered on our back deck to wish me safe travels…. ouch. I have to stop saying “our”. It really isn’t mine anymore. Amid the champagne and ice, I promised to blog my cross-country journey. So – here goes.

Adventure day 1.

I shot out Interstate 66 and then down Interstate 81, until I-81 became I-40, in Knoxville. Triple A’s TripTik describes Interstate 81 as follows:

“Sweeping views of farming country convey a sense of calm along this stretch of road. Dairy cows gather on hilltops creating the perfect country scene…Captivating scenery coupled with outdoor activities for every season make this [park] a great way to experience Tennessee’s natural beauty.”

I didn’t stop at the park. I stopped at the gas station. Did you know that some gas pumps from the ‘50’s still work? Come to Tennessee and see. I knew I wasn’t on the east coast anymore when I pulled up to the pump and noticed that – first – there was no credit card swipe option. You were required to go inside to pre-pay for case. Second, there was an elderly grandfather chap loitering outside. Third – when I went inside to prepay the attendant (who was in back using the restroom that I couldn’t use because it “didn’t work”), she told me I didn’t have to prepay. Rather, I could go back out to fill up. So I did…or rather I tried. First I started at one pump and realized that it had only 1 octane level – the more expensive level. So I moved to a different pump. I tried pumping again. Nothing happened. Confused, I went inside to the attendant. A lady was in front of me, purchasing her evening entertainment – a six-pack of Budweiser, a bag of Cheetos and a pack of Marlboros. There was a huge whole in the back of her shorts – so large I could see about an inch and a half of her underwear line. (I

4 grandma/grandpa types were gathered around a folding table inside the convenience store. They were there to celebrate Dorothy’s birthday. This tiny gas station was the hub of social activity in this tiny corner of Tennessee.

The attendant looked at me and said “Oh, hon, you gotta lift the little lever on the side. It mixes everybody up.” So back out I go. 3rd attempt to pump gas. I lift the lever, the entire pump starts shaking, but the gas is coming out to feed my car! Finally. I go back inside to pay. All of a sudden the bathroom is working and I’m allowed to use it.

Off I go again. Who would every have thought that a gas station could be so exciting.