Jaci Dawn

Thursday of last week we finally started to load up the meager treasures we were taking home.  I decided to start here and work backward through what has been the worst two weeks of my life so far.

Sorting through your parents’ estate is morbid, tiring, sad, stressful, and agonizing. Add to that the drama of people who think they are entitled to more and the process becomes even more tiresome. I wasn’t getting enough sleep on top of it all.

We filled two thirds of the trailer with our cumulative “treasures”: memories are more important than the “things”. There were moments when we snapped at each other, but in the long run my brother and I both know we are all we have left of our core family. Yes, there are two more generations in the wings but of the first five, there remains only my brother and myself. We need to lean on each other more than ever now (and I will add this: our Uncle Mike is the last of his generation. How much harder this was on him than it was on us!).

We pulled out of Ely in the early evening.

I put 16 miles on the odometer when everything came to a screeching halt: Terry’s big truck lost all oil pressure! Fortunately, I decided to follow him rather than go on ahead and we were able to turn around and make a late run into Ely for a quart of 15-40 oil. At our 4th stop we found the oil, purchased two quarts and returned to where Terry waited.

The tarp shredded before we reached Eureka. We nearly lost a roll of bubble wrap off the back of the trailer. Some cardboard backing did jump ship. At every stop, Chrystal’s boyfriend jumped out of the car and hurried forward to help Terry out. AJ was a true godsend and a willing pair of hands. So it was that when we stopped just east of Austin Summit in the moonless, cloudless desert night and AJ saw the Milky Way for the first time unobstructed by light pollution that we took time to allow him to stare into the stars through binoculars. The pure joy that young man felt was infectious!

There were several stops as we took breaks for the dogs, adjusted tie-downs, checked dresser drawers and generally made sure we were both still awake enough to drive. We gassed in Fallon. When we pulled out of the gas station and headed to I-80, I realized I was past being able to drive and I resorted to tail-gating the trailer. I simply followed tail lights and hoped I could keep it on the road without over-correcting or dozing off. I made AJ talk about anything that came to mind because his talking kept me awake.

We made Reno by 3:00am. We were in bed by 4. Harvey was the only one of us who was not exhausted beyond thinking and he was just disoriented, car-sick, and frightened of another new place. He finally settled down to sleep but was up by 9.

Terry & I unloaded the trailer in Reno with the help of cousins. We let AJ sleep in (he chastised us for it later). There’s another trip looming in my future: a trip to Reno to pick up all my books.

Saturday morning I was up early. The weather report had snow in the mountain passes by 11am and I wanted to be over the Siskiyous by then. Well, truth be told, I wanted to make an 11 hour drive and be home. No more motels or delays: I wanted to get on down the road.

If you “google” Reno to Portland, the first route that comes up takes you north through Alturas and Klamath Falls and over the Cascades to Cottage Grove. Don’t do it if weather will be dicey or you are in a hurry: the fastest route is slightly longer. I already knew what the roads look like between K Falls and Cottage Grove: two lane with passing lanes, slower speeds and the possibility the pass was still closed. A rule of thumb in the West is to take the roads most traveled, not the fastest or shortest routes. I just toss that in because so many people rely on GPS to get them from here to there without really knowing what or where they are going to be driving.

I took 395 north into Susanville. I hate that drive. It’s great on the Nevada side but California dropped the ball on their side. It’s a 2-lane highway with occasional passing lanes on the California side: not enough passing lanes, heavy traffic and large trucks, dips and curves. I wanted to be up that stretch of highway before Memorial Day traffic became heavy and I was stuck behind some camper.

Gas in California was $0.30 higher than Nevada or Oregon. You have to pump your own and you get no service. I will never vote for self serve as long as California remains higher in price than Oregon. I’m just saying that because it was cheaper in Idaho and about the same in Nevada and I had to pump my own. California takes the cake for gas prices.

We had snow flurries over the Cascades. We took CA44 to CA89 to I-5 around Mount Shasta which we could not see for the low clouds. I kept us at 5 miles over the speed limit which seemed safe enough as CHP was out in force and I saw them pulling over anyone doing 10 miles over. We climbed, we dropped, we wound through some beautiful country. Morel hunters were out in force in the charred remains of last year’s forest fires. We had more snow flurries as we pushed north on I-5 over the Siskiyous, passing big rigs and slow campers.

My heart soared as we crossed the state line.

We bought gas in Medford. I don’t care what anyone else says: when the station attendant offered to 1)pump my gas for me 2) check the oil and 3) wash the windshield, I knew I was home and I was happy. The service at the Chevron Station in Medford is beyond service. Those men working the pumps were cheerful, fast, and sweet. Did I mention I hate self-serve? HAHAHA. The gas was also less than $0.30 a gallon over California’s self-serve. <ahem>

On this last leg of the trip, we decided to let Harvey just ride on the seat. He did get a little car-sick, but he did so much better on the seat than he did in his car kennel. He got in and out of the car without protest.

We hit a wall of water just north of Lebanon that slowed everyone around us down to 60mph. The woman who was passing me at 75 dropped to 60mph so fast that I am certain she hydro-planed. I think the only reason I didn’t was because of the weight in my car. We all moved over to the right-hand lane and let the idiots pass us until we hit dry pavement again: then the other driver jacked it up to 75 again and I sped up to 70. Yes, I could have gone faster but OHP was out in force and I’d already passed several rigs pulled over for speeding. Last thing I needed was a ticket!

Interestingly, the only idiots I saw on the road were in Salem. That was where I got the people trying to pass me on the right and flipping me off because I was going faster than the right-hand lane but slower than the left-hand lane. Welcome to Oregon: home of idiots behind wheels. It was in part because of the increasing traffic as we neared Portland and the jerks behind wheels doing stupid things that I took the Aurora exit. It was also because I knew that I could cut the drive by 8 miles and ten minutes. I was headed HOME.

I dropped the kids off before I came home. No one was here when I arrived and I unloaded by myself. Then I sat in a lawn chair and cried.

I did call Terry to let him know I was home safe, but mostly I just sat in the lawn chair and cried.

Terry better not die on me anytime soon or I will kill him. End of story.