Move It

Last weekend our youngest daughter, Nebelle and I flew to Phoenix to help the oldest boy, Deejo and his family (Lana and kids) move back to Colorado.  He has been in Phoenix for about 15 years now and is ready to "come home".  It probably doesn't have anything to do with the 120 degree summer days, or a somewhat stagnant job market.  I think he just misses being picked on and abused by the rest of the family. 

Nebelle and I hit the ground running and loaded up a good many boxes into the trailer and box truck in a hurry. 

One item in particular we were told, was not going to make the trip to Colorado with them.  A drop leaf table.


(B)   "Look Nebelle.  That's just like the table you got from your great-grandmother." 
(N)   "Yes it is, Bill.  Except it's got some broken parts."  
(B)   "Ya know, I bet I could glue it back together"

(N&B)   "Let's load it up!"

So load it up we did.  We made a space for it well in the front part of the box, and stacked TONS of stuff on and around it.  We got caught loading it up by Deejo's kid, and Nebelle and I swore the kid to silence. 

"Don't tell.  This will be funny!"

By the time we finished for the day, the table was just barely visible under the other boxes and furniture.  When we got back from our hotel room the next morning, the broke table was in the middle of the driveway.  Deejo greeted us in the kitchen with an angry-

"You two really need to slow down!  Some of this stuff isn't going with us!"

Nebelle and I laughed until we nearly cried.  Deejo, not so much.

Then I loaded it back into the truck later in the day.

(Sorry about the focus, but the empty wall Vanna White pose had to make the post.)

                                           Big 'ol truck.



The drive was mostly uneventful.

Nebelle started off driving the Subaru, Deejo drove the big Penski box truck while Lana rode passenger with him, and I drove the other car pulling the U-Haul trailer with their kid as passenger.

After a while we were all ready for a change.  Nebelle opted to drive the box truck.  She said that she feels it's "good to do things that are scary, to help you grow".  You know, get you out of your comfort zone.  Like next school year she is going to teach kindergarten rather than 2nd grade.  Scary.

 I sat in the passenger seat to offer helpful comments while she was driving.

"LOOK OUT!"

"DON"T HIT THAT!"

OH.........MY...........GOD!!!"

(That's a lie.  She did great.)

                     After just a little while, it was old hat to her.

By late evening we were thinking of stopping, when the Subaru I was driving started jerking to the left like I was hitting potholes in the road.   I was on smooth pavement.  We parked it at a park-and-ride by the interstate and drove on another half hour to our hotel.  Next morning Deejo and I drove back to work on it.  We couldn't find anything that might cause the jerking.   We surmised it was perhaps a brake pad grabbing.  So I oiled the rotor.

Kids, don't try this at home.  Oil on the rotor will keep the brake from working at all, but since I was following a car pulling a trailer and a box truck, I figured I could still stop faster than them.

No more grabbing.

Made it up to Fort Collins and started unloading the trailer.  Our youngest son and his feeancee feansee feancee  Bride To Be showed up to help unload.  Oddly, whenever my youngest son came to the truck I seemed to be holding a very lightweight box, and when his BTB came up, I had something heavy to hand to her.  It seemed to peak when I handed the boy a 3 pound box of wicker baskets and her a 60 pound crate of bricks.

I'm glad she's a good sport.

The unloading finished just before dark, and Juanita and GunDiva showed up with a half dozen pizzas.

Glad they're "home", and I'm glad the move is over.

But what in the heck am I supposed to do with THIS?!?

 Bill