May 9, 2014.  The end!

This morning our ritual breaking of camp was bittersweet, marking the end of this perfect experiment in exploration, animal husbandry and basic survival (both mechanical and spiritual).  I expect those of you who have traveled this great county far more than I have are now realizing that I am, at the core, easily amused.  To me, there is something affirming in traversing 5,000 or so miles without leaving the ground.  Brad says it was like taking a peek backstage at America — seeing first-hand how so many people are engaged in the honest hard labor of making things work.  Steering clear of cities, we got a view of a different kind of commerce than I am used to.  It has given me something to think about.

One the way home from Nashville, we stopped in Sewanee TN to have lunch with our good friend who teaches high school English and Journalism there.  Martha Lee met us at The Blue Chair, a quaint cafe on the campus of The University of the South.  Doris was allowed to sit with us on the patio while we ate.  She ordered bacon and was well-pleased.

The drive from Sewanee to Atlanta, which should take about 3 hours at the most, took far longer than that.  It was raining steadily, Brad was sleepy and tired of driving, and the closer we got to Atlanta, the highway regained the familiar drudgery of billboards, gas stations, fast food restaurants, discount shopping malls.  A too-small truck pulling a top-heavy RV in front of us lost control and was swerving dangerously back and forth across two lanes of traffic.  Tractor trailers and cars manoeuvred crazily to get out of its way.  Brad said “Look at that!  We are going to see it jack-knife.”  I didn’t want to see it wreck.  I also knew that if it did, we would not be able to stop and would plow into it and would likely be late for dinner at Joyce’s (or perhaps early for dinner at the Pearly Gates).   We slowed way down and let the automotive circus get ahead of us.  The RV continued to swerve and disappeared around a curve.  I don’t know whether the driver ever regained control.  Brad pulled into a filling station and took a 15 minute nap.   I resumed breathing.

We pulled into the farm at 6:50 in the pouring rain.   Thinking we would have to unhitch the truck in the mud and drive straight to Joyce’s house (about 700 yards down the dirt road), we were thrilled to see Brad’s brother Tom and nephew Zac drive up behind us and give us a ride to the party.   A great reunion ensued, with everyone talking at once and whipping up a great communal dinner of roast pork by Joyce, collards and kale from Jennie’s garden, and sweet potatoes, pears and cherries concocted together in Athalie’s inimitable way.  Somehow in the happiness of the evening, we managed to lose Doris.  We called and called and finally went home looking for her, thinking she may have preceded us to the cabin.  No Doris.   We retraced our steps and met Joyce loading Doris in her car to bring her to us — she had gotten trapped in the pantry!

One more thing before I say good-bye.  Brad, Doris and I voted on the single most unexpectedly useful item we took on the trip.  While the collapsible plastic yellow foot stool, ceiling projecto clock and wi-fi hot spot gizzy got two votes each, the only unanimous vote was for “Brad.”

Thanks for following along in this inaugural edition of Tales from Towed Haul.  I hope to take you along on future trips, which we are already mulling around in our minds.