Florida or bust… And we left! Sort of.

Posted on Posted in Being Human, Florida or Bust..., you've got to be kidding me

The sun finally set, and we packed and packed, and I even had all of my carry-on bag buttoned up and ready to go on the kitchen table – helped as much as I could getting everything in its proper place before we left into the darkness.

The RV is a loud and angry beast of a machine. It rumbles and bounces a bit, and everything that can rattle, does.  The creaks and moans seem to be everywhere, and the turn signal makes a beeping sound that is either like a great alarm clock, or that final 10 seconds of beeping before a bomb explodes.  My parents have made an art form of packing up every little item into a drawer, a shelf or some hidden away cubbyhole – they really are amazing. Even my bag goes – – Oh, its still on the kitchen table.

I apologized at least a dozen times.  We were already a good 60 miles away from the house when I’d realized.

I’m sorry, Dad.

I’m sorry, Dad.

I’m sorry, Dad.

I’m sorry, Dad.

I’m sorry, Dad. I’m really sorry, Dad.

I’m sorry, Dad.

I’m sorry, Dad.

He took it all in stride. Told me it was no problem, and we pulled over in an empty parking lot to separate the old honda from the back of the RV so that Kyle and I could drive back to the house and grab that bag.  I mean, we had to, that bag had my laptop and all the other crucial devices in it that I needed to make these blog entries! I vowed to make the trip as quickly as possible, and not really leave the RV for the rest of the trip, in case my family might just decide to abandon me somewhere (please not Alabama, please not Alabama).

To my surprise, that car seems to be held to the RV with just two bolts and a couple of pins, plus some curly-cue electrical wires that I suppose control the brake lights to synchronize with the RV. Its all a foreign world to me, so I’m betting its actually voodoo magic, and I’m grateful that it works. Just two short hours later, we were back, and everything was again, moving south.