This trip to see Ellie was pretty last minute. I wasn't sure how long I would be with Rachael and while I was kind of "in the neighborhood", it was still a five hour plus or minus ride away. But Rachael was ready get her own things in order, so I called Ellie the day before and asked if she would mind if I stopped by.
I headed to Ellie’s after stopping for gas and flowers- arriving around 1:30. Ellie lives in a sprawling retirement community that sits like a small town within the city of Asheville. I had only been at her "new" place once before, and that was twenty-five years ago. Back then, it was under construction. I had remembered it being a little further up the hill and on the other side of the street so I was surprised when my infallible GPS told me it was a few houses sooner than I expected.
Stepping into Ellie's place is a little like stepping pack into the past. It’s not that it looks old or anything like that, but it’s filled with things that I associate with years gone by- the furniture, the paintings, it all carries memories- fond memories. We sat down in her living room- her on the chair, me on the couch, and chatted. The clock still hangs on the wall but unfortunately it no longer strikes the quarter hour. The couch is the same pull-out couch I had spent the night on back in the Biltmore days. Across from the couch, is the table I used to play under back in Biltmore. It, along with the couch cushions, served as my fort. And when it wasn't my fort, it was my spaceship. I would play under it with cheap little plastic cars that I thought were the best. I was looking at this table as Ellie and I sat and talked and for the first time that I've visited as an adult, I refrained from commenting on how that table was so much lower than I remembered. Still, as I sat on the couch, it was hard not to keep looking over at it, remembering.
I headed to Ellie’s after stopping for gas and flowers- arriving around 1:30. Ellie lives in a sprawling retirement community that sits like a small town within the city of Asheville. I had only been at her "new" place once before, and that was twenty-five years ago. Back then, it was under construction. I had remembered it being a little further up the hill and on the other side of the street so I was surprised when my infallible GPS told me it was a few houses sooner than I expected.
Stepping into Ellie's place is a little like stepping pack into the past. It’s not that it looks old or anything like that, but it’s filled with things that I associate with years gone by- the furniture, the paintings, it all carries memories- fond memories. We sat down in her living room- her on the chair, me on the couch, and chatted. The clock still hangs on the wall but unfortunately it no longer strikes the quarter hour. The couch is the same pull-out couch I had spent the night on back in the Biltmore days. Across from the couch, is the table I used to play under back in Biltmore. It, along with the couch cushions, served as my fort. And when it wasn't my fort, it was my spaceship. I would play under it with cheap little plastic cars that I thought were the best. I was looking at this table as Ellie and I sat and talked and for the first time that I've visited as an adult, I refrained from commenting on how that table was so much lower than I remembered. Still, as I sat on the couch, it was hard not to keep looking over at it, remembering.
Ellie asked about sightseeing, but I wasn't particularly interested. Part of the reason was that I was only going to be there for the night, part was that I really didn't want to put her out more than I already was. But a big reason was the lack of anyone else to share seeing the sites with. So... maybe another time- when Ellie doesn't have to get dragged around, and I'm not alone.
Instead of sightseeing, Ellie went with me to the grocery store, where I bought some country ham for Mom and myself. Later, she gave me a tour of the community’s main building, and then we ate in their dining hall. Afterwards, we sat quietly in her den, watching a little TV before going to bed. I think that sometimes sharing the everyday stuff can be more enjoyable than racing around. At least, it was fine with me.
At bedtime, I slept across from my old fort, on the same pull-out couch that I had over forty-five years ago- the same couch where Nona sat on the edge, scratching my back, while Ellie set up the nightlight with the little dog house and glowing dog, and stopped the pendulum on the clock that no longer bongs..
Morning came early, as I guess it always does. Ellie got up, already dressed like usual. She offered breakfast, but I was going to get going. I would be heading home and I wasn't sure how far I would make it in one day. We said our “Goodbyes” and I checked my route one more time on my GPS one more time before leaving.
For all the memories the mountains of North Carolina hold for me, one of the strongest is sharing the early morning view of them on a long ride home with Mom. We were driving a Uhaul filled with Mom's memories and I remember climbing the mountains in the predawn hours and seeing the clouds and mist hanging low in the valleys. The ride was long and the truck was a problem the whole way home, but it was an adventure that we shared.
The GPS was taking me home a slightly different way than when Mom and I had left that time twenty-five years ago. Back then, it seemed like we headed a little more east before turning north for the long ride home. In any case, I was glad to see that it had me avoiding New York City by going further north before leading me home. Also back then, Mom and I had left a couple of hours earlier than I was leaving now. Back then, it was dark when we left. Now, the sun was already up as I was leaving- but the mountains were beautiful nonetheless, and they remind me of Mom.
I drove for hours, and frankly, most of it was a blur. My time was spent looking for radio stations or upcoming gas stations, or checking the projected time remaining on my trip and trying to decide where I would stop for the night.
As I drove into the afternoon, the traffic was getting heavier and more aggressive. Part of this was due to the time of day, part was due, I assume, to being further north. By the time I reached the New Jersey Turnpike, spending the night at a hotel, became a borderline decision. I started thinking about landmarks and weighing them against the time. “I’ll just get past___”, I’d think, “and then I’ll decide....” And I would do this over and over again and it just became even more borderline each time.
Somewhere around this time, it became apparent that my GPS was "helping me out" by changing it’s mind-and rerouting me across the George Washington Bridge. I'm no expert on driving to, or avoiding New York City, but I was pretty sure this spelled trouble. This realization came over me in a wave- the same kind of wave I get when I realize I've broken a tooth- I can feel the heat rise from the pit of my stomach and shoot upwards into my head, just like one of those cartoon animals that turns into a thermometer, right before the back of their head blows off. On the bright side, at least it was rush hour... and I was in a rush.
For all the memories the mountains of North Carolina hold for me, one of the strongest is sharing the early morning view of them on a long ride home with Mom. We were driving a Uhaul filled with Mom's memories and I remember climbing the mountains in the predawn hours and seeing the clouds and mist hanging low in the valleys. The ride was long and the truck was a problem the whole way home, but it was an adventure that we shared.
The GPS was taking me home a slightly different way than when Mom and I had left that time twenty-five years ago. Back then, it seemed like we headed a little more east before turning north for the long ride home. In any case, I was glad to see that it had me avoiding New York City by going further north before leading me home. Also back then, Mom and I had left a couple of hours earlier than I was leaving now. Back then, it was dark when we left. Now, the sun was already up as I was leaving- but the mountains were beautiful nonetheless, and they remind me of Mom.
I drove for hours, and frankly, most of it was a blur. My time was spent looking for radio stations or upcoming gas stations, or checking the projected time remaining on my trip and trying to decide where I would stop for the night.
As I drove into the afternoon, the traffic was getting heavier and more aggressive. Part of this was due to the time of day, part was due, I assume, to being further north. By the time I reached the New Jersey Turnpike, spending the night at a hotel, became a borderline decision. I started thinking about landmarks and weighing them against the time. “I’ll just get past___”, I’d think, “and then I’ll decide....” And I would do this over and over again and it just became even more borderline each time.
Somewhere around this time, it became apparent that my GPS was "helping me out" by changing it’s mind-and rerouting me across the George Washington Bridge. I'm no expert on driving to, or avoiding New York City, but I was pretty sure this spelled trouble. This realization came over me in a wave- the same kind of wave I get when I realize I've broken a tooth- I can feel the heat rise from the pit of my stomach and shoot upwards into my head, just like one of those cartoon animals that turns into a thermometer, right before the back of their head blows off. On the bright side, at least it was rush hour... and I was in a rush.
As I approach the bridge and the city, I found myself cramming through toll booths in the "cash only" lane and I had no idea how much cash I was supposed to have. Choking through, exit ramps were coming up faster than the GPS could tell me what to do. But soon enough, things changed. Traffic was snarled. It was obvious that if I wasn't in the correct lane for whatever I had to do next, I was screwed. Working my way over the bridge- like a rat in a snake, my GPS started barking helpful directions, like "Continue straight and then take ramp ahead", like somehow I could do anything other than go straight when I'm on a bridge. And "take ramp ahead"? What was that supposed to mean? Which ramp? From where I was sitting, it looked like there about twenty of them. Traffic started to pick up (kind of)- and I still had no idea where I'm going.
Through some miracle, as I came off of the bridge, I managed to make it around a tangle of exit right and exit left ramps, only to be carried along by the surrounding traffic- like one of those out-of-control coal cars that careens through the coal mine. I glanced at my GPS and I saw that I had an hour more to go than I did an hour ago. That, plus the "Heavy Traffic" warning on my GPS was now lit up. "No kidding", I thought, "This was your idea". By now, I was beginning to resent my GPS. I had been lied to.
 |
| "Take Ramp Ahead" |
Somehow, SOMEHOW, I was eventually dumped onto the same parkway that I had traveled on before. While I wouldn't go as far as to say it was always a leisurely drive in the past, at least it hadn't been completely jam-packed with lunatics. Things were looking up. It offered a vague sense of familiarity, even if it was in name only. I took it as a positive sign. I would have taken anything at that point.
Unfortunately, the illusion of security, along with the hope of ever seeing home again, was short lived. The scenic through-way that only moments before had offered a sense of relief, had now turned into a stop and go kind of hell. Mostly the "stop" kind. Traffic was either at a standstill or going eighty miles an hour. There was nothing in between- other than acceleration or braking. What was going on? Was there an accident ahead?" At first, I was concerned. Then, I figured if it was an accident, it better be a good one. Finally, I couldn't care less. The GPS had added another hour onto my arrival time, and I was sitting still.
Unfortunately, the illusion of security, along with the hope of ever seeing home again, was short lived. The scenic through-way that only moments before had offered a sense of relief, had now turned into a stop and go kind of hell. Mostly the "stop" kind. Traffic was either at a standstill or going eighty miles an hour. There was nothing in between- other than acceleration or braking. What was going on? Was there an accident ahead?" At first, I was concerned. Then, I figured if it was an accident, it better be a good one. Finally, I couldn't care less. The GPS had added another hour onto my arrival time, and I was sitting still.
My GPS has a heavy traffic warning on it. I had always thought this worked by telling you that there is an "X" minute delay ahead, and then helpfully highlighted your route on the map. I've seen it do this before, but now I was thinking that this must only be for normal heavy traffic. Apparently, what it does for insanely heavy traffic, is that it waits while you just sitting there, and then, when you're finally able to accelerate, and you get up to somewhere around forty miles per hour, it starts spitting out: "Recalculating!...Recalculating!...", in a somewhat panicky voice. This was designed to do nothing more than raise my blood pressure. There were no exits around; there was nowhere else to go. Then, suddenly it stopped, and I'm stopped once again as well-still stuck on the exact same route.
Eventually though, the GPS did divert me. Where, I can't say- I have no idea. All I knew is I was moving somewhere down in lower Connecticut. Time-wise, my arrival at home was predicted to be about two hours away. Privately, I sneered at the GPS. I knew I had been lied to again.
It had long since turned dark and my head felt like it was going to explode. The only thing that kept me going was my anger at the GPS. That, and the fact that wherever I was, they didn't have any hotels.
At least the traffic was moving and for the first time in a while, my projected arrival time seemed to be getting closer instead of moving away. I decided to give my GPS one more chance, even though I was still mad at it.
Driving along, I recognized other cars that had been stuck in the same traffic jam along with me. We're all scattering down the highway like flies let out of a box- just happy to be free. I wove through various road construction sites, before finally seeing signs of places I recognized. Home was now a short hour and a half away.
The rest of the ride, thankfully, was uneventful. I pulled into the driveway, relived to finally be home... or anywhere, really- anywhere except the highway. It felt like forever ago since I left Ellie's house. It felt even longer since leaving Rachael.
Going inside, I found that Sam and Helaina were still awake. It was good to see them and I was glad to be able to home in time to put Sam to bed.
I unpacked my stuff, bringing in my little bag of luggage and then sliding the country ham slices out of the dry ice and into the refrigerator. I took in the bags of chips that I bought when I was grocery shopping with Rachael, and I grabbed the pile of brochures that I picked up for Mom at the North Carolina Welcome Center. I left the GPS in the car though. We'ld been through a lot together in the last few days, and at times, it got a little rough. Things were said that neither of us meant, and I think we both needed to cool off.
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