Determination. Man is the only animal on earth that truly possesses determination. Oh sure, one can watch an ant diligently haul grains of sand out of the earth in an effort to build a nest, and if that structure gets disrupted, the ant will just start again. Or I can remember a certain robin a few years ago that wanted to build her nest on top of the ornamental light hanging next to our front door. Each morning I would knock it down because I suspect that Mama Robin would have become very territorial of my front door, and a swooping bird would not be welcoming to my guests. Yet as soon as we went to work, she also would get back to work, adding new materials to start a new nest. I had to remove materials each day for about five days in a row before she got the hint and tried elsewhere.
Yet both the ant and the robin above were not working from the premise of a determined spirit. In each case, they were working purely from instinct. They both instinctively knew that in order to survive or to reproduce the species, they had to get these structures built. So why do I bring up the idea of determination? Because without it, we would not be where we are tonight.
This trip to Gladys started with our determination to get everything that we wanted to bring down to her this trip into the trunk and the back seat of a 1999 Toyota Camry. While I will admit that the trunk is rather deep, I am still amazed at what we were able to get into that confined space. Our first goal was to get a full computer desk and two bookshelves (broken down into component parts) into the trunk. With the pieces covered in thin wrapping paper and swathed like mummies in plastic wrap, they nestled together in the trunk. (Pictures of the whole desk and bookshelves, when constructed and in place in the guest room, will follow in a later blog.) Next came a full camera bag, bundles of clothes, a space heater, a post-hole digger, a cherry jewelry box (also in pieces), and various other objects that were snugly placed in the trunk. The whole pile of goodies was topped by an overstuffed garment bag. Miraculously, the trunk actually closed on the first try. We were determined to get everything in, and although we had to rearrange items several times, we finally met with success.
The next draw on our determinism came from the drive down to Florida. We started yesterday after my 7:30 - 8:20 class. To have a car waiting for us on Sunday when we fly back to Wisconsin, we both had to drive a car down to Milwaukee. I HATE to dive in Milwaukee County and probably have done so less than five times in my life (which is quite a feat considering we used to live in Waukesha, WI!) But I was determined that nothing would stop me from swallowing my utter panic and fear and following Rick as he drove to the long-term parking lot at Mitchell Field in Milwaukee. White knuckles aside, we made it that far without incident, leaving one car behind as we drove onward in the Camry which we will leave at Gladys as our Florida car.
We also were determined that since we were that far, we would drive through Chicago to shorten the trip. Rick was used to driving through Chicago, and since we were not in the truck and were not pulling a U-Haul this year, that drive also was a success.
Rain was predicted for Wisconsin, but we drove ahead of the cold front and got out of the state before it hit. We were determined to get as far as Tennessee before we stopped, and even though we were both dead tired, we -- rather Rick -- persevered and drove long after dark until we reached our destination in Clarksville.
We got up this morning in the dark and made it through Nashville with only one "wrong" turn that really turned into an alternate way to get to the same place, so that part of the drive went better than expected. I have to say that our determination today was just to stay alive on the crazy-driver highways of Tennessee, Alabama, and Florida. The speed limits in all of these states on the Interstate highways is 70, so, of course, drivers went anywhere from 75 to 95 all day long.
We only encountered one driver who was going less than the speed limit, and he created a laughable, yet dangerous, situation. Strangely enough, we have now encountered three houses being moved down the highways this trip. The first and second houses were full pre-fab houses that took about 1.5 lanes of highway. Those were going slower than the speed limit, but the drivers were courteous and skilled, so traffic moved around them at a fairly safe rate. The third house, however, was a different story. We were behind the third house that was being hauled by two semis in two half pieces. We were about half a mile behind the houses when suddenly the first part of the house switched from the right to the left-hand lane.
"No way," Rick said in amazement, "Is that house actually passing someone on the highway?"
Sure enough, as we watched, the semi with the house moved to the left-hand lane to pass a slow-moving little car in the right-hand lane. Two or three other cars quickly followed the house, cutting off the "oversized load" car that was trailing that half of the house. Watching a house pass a car is really a bazaar sight, but as we approached the offending car, we knew why the semi driver hauling the house was finally driven to that action. There he was, a little old man in a small car, driving down the 70 mph Interstate, going about 40 miles an hour. So who is more dangerous, the person speeding at 90 miles per hour, or the dotty old man who was driving at 40?
After two days of being on the road for over 10 hours each day, we both are exhausted. My more than ample butt feels flat, my shoulders and arms ache, and we still face a three hour drive tomorrow to get to Gladys. At about hour 6 today, we both had the same thought: how much would shipping the truck home cost us so we could fly home in May? That concept may be worth investigating...
I leave you with one other observation. Wisconsin is a paper-making state, and our hometown of Green Bay is especially noteworthy for producing some fine examples of plush toilet paper. Thus, I have access to the best. After using the facilities in every rest stop from Wisconsin to Florida, I make the following observation: Wisconsin's paper is soft and heavy enough to do the intended job, so it earns an A-. The toilet paper in the rest stops of Illinois is the worst of the whole trip. It is scratchy and so thin as to almost be translucent. Half the roll is needed to adequately do the job, so it earns a grade of D. Kentucky gets top honors; their paper was not only soft and heavy, it also was quilted and quite pleasing to use. Thus, Kentucky's paper gets an A. Tennessee's paper was only slightly better in thickness to Illinois' paper, so it gets a C while Florida's paper is slightly better than that, so I will rate it as a B-. Obviously, the people who purchase paper for the restrooms are men who do not use the stuff as often as women do. The one exception may be Kentucky. They, at least, know that if you provide the public with a better quality of tissue, they will need and use less, be happier with the results, be kinder to their fellow travelers, and leave with an overall positive impression of the state (even though they may not realize why they feel that way).
Am I exhausted? Yes. Have I been on the road too long? Yes. Am I sleep-deprived? Yes. And will I be happy to finally reach dear old Gladys? Oh, definitely, absolutely, certainly, yes!
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