This weekend my younger cousin came for a brief visit as he is going out to California for stationing at the Coast Guard station in Santa Barbara. He was planning to drive out there in order to have a car with him, which makes sense. Since I lived out there for two years and had driven myself out there, he was asking about how long it takes, etc. His dad, my uncle, was going to make the drive with him. Unnecessary in my opinion, but that’s neither here nor there. My cousin’s plan was to leave early Sunday morning, around 4 am. That made perfect sense to me. Get up early and get a good start because he’s got to be back by Wednesday afternoon. He was asking, too, if it was a “hard drive”. This is a term that confused me. What does he (or my uncle) believe to be a “hard drive”? EB clarified a bit asking if I’d do it again. Yes, absolutely I would. I saw parts of the country I know I will never see again unless I drive that same route. Even today the memory of this gas station I stopped at somewhere in Arizona haunts me. It was perched high up in the mountains and when I stopped there, it was early in the morning and the air was so cool and crisp. I’ve tried to find its approximate location on a map and have failed to do so. Anyway, about an hour after my cousin left, my uncle called asking about the drive. He said he’s talked to truckers who drive that way and they’ve said it’s a “hard drive”. Well of course it is for them!!! They’re driving a multi-ton truck. I’d find that a “hard drive” too if I had to deal with all of the mountainous terrain. But in a car it’s really not that bad. Of course I’m not an authority, those truck drivers are, so he listened to them. *rolls eyes*
Oh, and by the way… by 8-9 Sunday morning, they had not left yet. If I was my cousin I’d have gotten up and left. He’s an adult. He doesn’t need daddy tagging along for the hell of it.