Adventures in Moving

We used to move around a lot. Sometimes it was to move to a bigger place; sometimes it was to live closer to work. Sometimes it was a genetic thing; I suspect there is a long history of my ancestors packing in the night and being gone by dawn. So moving is in my blood.

We had several ill-fated moves in the early 80's that proved the U-Haul slogan. The first one occurred when, for a series of bone-headed reasons, I quit my job at the newspaper in 1981 and moved my young family to Colorado Springs. We packed everything we owned into a 24 foot U-Haul and, with my '68 Chevy Malibu in tow, started out.

Up until this time I don't think I ever drove a truck that big and I know I never towed anything. The fun part was backing up. The car had a much shorter wheelbase than the truck, I had to learn and contend with the whole left is right and right is left thingy, and I couldn't see the car. If everything was where it should be I only ever saw the shadow of the car on the pavement... sometimes. So I mostly picked gas stations and restaurants that allowed me to make big, wide, loopy turns to get in and out.

The hairiest part of this trip occurred outside of St. Louis. We were heading west, around the city. It was during the height of the highway construction season. Traffic was heavy and I was going faster than I should have been -- just keeping up with everyone else. The lane I was in took a sudden dog-leg to the right and, at the same time, the pavement level dropped off about three inches under my left tires. The whole truck tilted to the left and for several moments (but it seemed much longer at the time) we were going down the road on two wheels.

Fortunately, my wife insisted that we bring our piano with us. It was packed and tied down along the right wall of the truck and provided enough ballast for the truck to eventually right itself. When the right tires slammed back onto the uneven pavement I had to fight the inevitable fishtail and, in the side view mirrors, I saw a lot more of the car than side shadows; I saw the back end of the car whip in and out of view as it fishtailed along with us. Traffic was heavy and fast and tight on either side of us so it was impossible to stop and faint or cry or change my underwear. I had to just keep moving and pray the car was still properly attached.

When we eventually found a place to pull over, everything checked out OK. I blustered about how dangerous the roads and traffic were here and generally did my guy thing about my driving skills and upper body strength. We both knew we were OK because of sheer dumbass luck. But Nina never mentioned that... and still hasn't. She's quite a gal.

UP NEXT: The Gatlinburg Incident