Let the Adventure Begin!

             I am writing from Atlanta – more specifically, the Cabbagetown community in Atlanta, where Kim and I have been living for a couple of weeks. I’ll write more about our new home in future posts. For now, though, I want to describe the transition process.

            As some of you may know, the sale of our Bark House fell through three days before closing, and so we had to back out from our move to a condo on the edge of Traverse City. We decided to opt for more adventure and, with encouragement from Genne´, who wanted her mom close, we chose a loft in Atlanta. I flew down mid-December to see it for the first time and closed on it a day later. Kim trusted me with the decision, reasoning that with her cancer, I might end up living there alone. So, we drove to a home that Kim had never seen – believe it or not, the second time in our marriage this had happened.

 

            The idea was and is to make this chapter of our life exciting and creative. We could have remained holed up in our house, doing chores and watching too much television. Why not start fresh, in a cool new place, meet a bunch of new people, and use Kim’s creativity to make our loft both livable and remarkable. It will be good for us, right? We’ll see . . ..

 

            Packing the car was part of the adventure. We needed to leave enough of our stuff behind so the house would appeal to prospective buyers, and so that we would be able to live there when we returned in April. Kim did all the packing box after box. I was in charge of hauling boxes out to the garage for the movers, and after the loaded and left, more boxes out to our car (fortunately, a mini-van) for the long drive south. We managed to squeeze everything in, even a Christmas fern that was blooming. I left myself a small window for my rear view mirror.

 

            The drive to Atlanta was 1,000 miles. We left with about two feet of snow on the ground, and the first hundred miles or so featured some ice and drifting snow on the road. After that, it was smooth sailing – at least, until we got to Atlanta’s legendary traffic. We spent three nights on the road, allowing us time for plenty of stops. For me, the worst event on the trip was stopping at a toll bridge in Indianapolis. In order to pay the 90-cent toll, I had to learn how to scan a hieroglyph on a screen. Failing that, I had to put my dollar bill in a slot I couldn’t find. A voice on the “Help” channel explained how to do that, but then I had to pick up my ten cents of change in a place I couldn’t reach without leaving the car – my seatbelt preventing me from leaning out the door. The people in line behind me were kind enough not to honk their horns.

 

            Otherwise, as I said, smooth sailing. I became reliant on Gertrude, the name we gave to the GPS voice in our car.

 

            Atlanta was a challenge. We had planned to drive in on Sunday morning, when the traffic would be light, but the snow in Michigan made us delay our departure, so we entered Atlanta as part of Monday morning rush-hour. I can’t tell you how we (Kim, Gertrude and I) got through it. The highway featured maybe a dozen lanes, sometimes more, and we had to scan a wall of signs to find our way. We noticed right away how aggressive the Atlanta drivers are, with black pick-up trucks tailgating in a dangerous way, and some sort of small white cars passing us on the right, often when we were trying to change lanes to exit I-75. We learned then, and over the next few weeks that for many Atlanta drivers, traffic laws are only suggestions.

 

            But we made it. Genne´ helped us through the security system to get us through a couple of gates, and she let us park in her reserved spot next to the door into the building. Let the adventure begin!