Author’s note: Two heads are better than one. When writing this, we show alternating points of view. As you read, you’ll see both Laura and Keith’s recollections.
Read Part 1 first to start start the journey with us.
Fantastic Trip into the Unknown
Keith: The line of people in front of us hadn’t moved. I turned back to Laura with a feeling of controlled freedom and said, “Okay, enough of delays being put on us, let’s go. We’ll need to fill up with gas, get some water, and a few snacks.” Laura had already made up her mind that we would drive before I bought into the idea. It was almost as if she was just waiting for me to agree. She looked at me and almost dragged me out of the airport towards our car. I steeled myself for a fantastic trip into the unknown, into adventure, and into the night.
Dirty McDonald’s
Laura: It was 1 p.m. when Delta texted about the cancellation and re-booking of our flights. At 1:30 pm, we got into our car and did the three most important things for a cross-country road trip. We check our tire pressure, got a 24-pack of bottled water, and went through McDonald’s drive through for what we call a “Dirty McDonald’s” meal to fuel us for the trip. After finishing off my apple pie while Keith did the first three-hour leg, my intuition started to feel “right.” I called the other adult children and let them know what we were doing. My daughter wanted reassurance that we hadn’t been smoking anything that would impede our decision-making abilities. I laughed at that one! The other child thought it was a last-minute adventure that was a bit crazy. Once I knew all the children were happy and content where they were, we started our
drive. Oh, and there was also Grandma Gloria, my mother, who lives with us. She was holding down the fort in Raleigh with our dog Rosco, a Shiba Inu, with cat software built into dog hardware. The quintessential doge who, if he could utter it, would say, “Much craze” about our trip.
The Journey Beyond Nashville
Keith: As we mounted our trusty CX-5 in the car park at Raleigh-Durham airport, our immediate goal was to set our compass West. A gas station would provide all, if not almost all, or our basic creature comforts and needs. A full tank of gas. A check and fill of air in the tires, and the water and snacks to get us through the next few hours. We knew the road ahead very well, having traipsed up the I-40 to beautiful Asheville, N.C., and the surrounding area. We were familiar with the windy, hilly road, and had driven eight hours many times to visit Naomi in “Music City” Nashville. I had no qualms about that part of the journey that was as comforting as it was familiar. It was the journey beyond Nashville, the additional 21 hours that Waze told us we’d be driving that loomed in my mind as the mysterious monster.
Are We There Yet?
Keith: The short trip to Nashville tested us. The first couple of hours were uneventful. We drove past Durham, N.C. (known as “The Bull City”), and Elon University. Next up was Greenville, S.C., check. High Point, N.C., check. Foothills of the Appalachians, check. As we moved on seemingly quickly, but not making a dent in the number of miles, things started to change. Our first inkling that something wasn’t going as we’d imagined was a slow line of traffic. We ground to a halt, with occasional movement, and I felt disappointed that we had met this obstacle on a normally flowing section of road. I mulled how we’d fare through the other states and endless miles of road ahead if we were embroiled in this already. I had a choice to make immediately, one that would set a tone on the whole 1,750-mile trek. Allow my frustration to take over, hurriedly search for a way ‘round or through this traffic and fight the situation, or accept what we were going through and treat it as part of the journey. The only decision that made sense with more than 1,500 miles left was to conserve our sanity and strength and sit back and enjoy the opportunity to see the countryside.
Lord of the Rings
Keith: As I sat in the driver seat waiting for the traffic ahead to navigate whatever it was in front of us, I noticed something land on the windscreen. Was that rain? No, not rain, but not quite snow either. The light sleet that began to fall slowly increased in pace and thickness to become a decent snow fall. “Good grief” I thought. Stuck in a mountain pass and it begins to snow. I thought about that scene in Lord of The Rings and felt that this was part of our journey. I knew we’d overcome it somehow, but what a crazy and unexpected start.
Keith: After about 30 minutes or so we made it to the head of the line. The offender was a closed bridge on I-40, including the underpass. It was under total reconstruction. All traffic had to exit the freeway on the off-ramp and rejoin via the on-ramp. A single, narrow, winding but very short route for all the trucks and cars that would normally rumble on by swiftly.
Common Sense in the Driver’s Seat
Keith: Once past the initial obstacle, it came time to consider fatigue. I’d driven from Raleigh this far, about four hours, and we were going to swap drivers through the night. I knew Laura didn’t like night driving so decided it was time for me to get some rest. Common sense was assuredly in the driving seat this time. I would have driven another couple of hours, but safety chatted away on my right shoulder urging me to make the smart move. As Laura drifted in and out of a light sleep, the sleet turned into more light snowflakes. Up ahead was an exit for several petrol stations. It was time to make the driver switch.
Driving Snow
Laura: Making sure the Spotify was on any kind of ‘80s music, I checked my mirrors, adjusted the seat, and pulled into the long highway in front of us. About five minutes after I took over driving, Keith was quietly purring in the passenger seat. Reclined and ready to do battle with the sleep gods, he drifted off. I can’t remember exactly how many hours it had been, but big snowflakes started to fall. Not a soft fall, but a driving wall of snow that looked like it was aiming for the grill of our SUV. I was mesmerized by the white fluff and slowed down to about 60 mph. It was dark and there weren’t many vehicles on the road. My palms were sweating, and I contemplated waking up Keith to switch drivers because visibility wasn’t the greatest and I was a bit nervous. I decided to slow down to 50 mph, and then eventually to 40 mph. I sucked it up and let him sleep. I kept envisioning getting to Torc’s Albuquerque testing facility and that was one of the things that literally drove me to keep going. I’d only started the job about seven months ago and the event I was travelling to was quite important. I didn’t want to let the team down and I didn’t want to let myself down.
Burned Rubber and Sparklers
Laura: I smelled it before I saw it. The pungent odor was recognizable. Sparks coming off the semi’s right back tire shocked me into paying attention. It reminded me of 4th of July sparklers we lit as kids. I pressed my foot firmly on the brake, hoping not to wake up Keith. No dice on that one. My firm press turned out to be more of a hard pumping “sort of” stop. I swerved left to avoid driving into the back of the truck and Keith woke up. “What was that? Everything okay?” I spoke with my calmest voice and said, “Oh, it’s fine, just a thing up ahead that I had to avoid. Go back to sleep honey.” My heart was beating fast, and I was glad that my driver assist cruise control left more than enough space between our car and the back of the truck. That heart-pumping experience cemented in my mind the importance of Torc’s mission to commercialize autonomous trucks with safety as the number one factor.
Laura: We settled in, passing through Arkansas, Oklahoma, Texas, and finally New Mexico. The most spectacular sunrise in Oklahoma greeted us. It was surprising to see the large number of semi-trucks parked at exits and at rest areas for the night. They were as plentiful as the tumbleweed in and around the highway.
American Born Tiger Momma
Laura: Oklahoma’s state motto: “Labor omnia vincit” translates to “Steady Work Overcame all Things.” My parents always instilled a strong work ethic in me, having been immigrants from the Philippines and China. The drive behind the wheel reminded me of what my father used to say about making sure I explored each opportunity that came across my path. It has been a mainstay in my arsenal of tools, and I’ve worked hard to bake the idea into my children’s growth. I do have a bit of Asian Tiger Momma in me, but I temper that with the fact that my children are first and foremost, individuals with different personalities. My wish for them is to be happy, well-adjust people who pursue their passions while still being able to pay their own way as they go out into the post-pandemic wild.
Tumbleweed the Size of a Microwave
Laura: Back to the tumbleweed…which, according to Google, “symbolizes desolation and empty expanses, the land just beyond the American frontier, which opens out into the unknown. Tumbleweeds are mysterious, with uncertain origins and unknown destinations, moving across the land at the mercy of the winds.” One big tumbleweed about the size of a typical microwave rolled across the highway. I drove straight into the fluffy straw-colored ball. It made a home in our grill and parts of it floated to the side of the highway. I thought about how our journey was the opposite of a tumbleweed. We weren’t tumbleweeds. We had a destination and we moved deliberately, albeit not at the outset of the trip.
The culmination of the story can be found in Part 3.
Comments