We’re getting the hang of this RV-ing thing. I’ll spare you the more graphic details. But we’re usually road ready in about 30 minutes–not bad for rookies.
It was yet another logistics gymnastics day with lots of dominoes stood up just waiting to be knocked down and throw all of our planning off. First, we returned Kona to the rental to Avis. Next, I took the driver’s seat of Maureen. I was not only blessedly, but also completely–and I mean completely–unaware of just how challenging this drive would be.
There was not a clue to be had anywhere in the recesses of my brain about the hours-long twisting, winding, climbing, switch-backing, descending non-sense that was our journey to Felton, California. Lest you think I’m fibbing or exaggerating, allow us to disabuse you of the fever dream of a simple journey.
I have a much deeper respect for those folks in their Conestoga wagons during the 18th and 19th centuries. Idiots.
Said expedition did not sit well with 25% of the Cooke family: Evan was–how shall I say it delicately?–“oogey” for the duration of the 5-hour drive. Fortunately, Evan’s constitution held up, which is super good because, well, let’s just say my tummy has great sympathy for other tummies in distress. Had events gone a different direction (specifically, up), the scene may have played out like something from the pie eating contest in the movie Stand by Me. That’s all I’m saying.
So, instead, please enjoy the driving scenery of what, to me, was pure M*A*S*H mountains.
Please note the truck overturning sign.
Why Felton, California you ask? Allow me to introduce my beloved Aunt Barbara and Uncle Chris Murray.
We arrived in the mid to late afternoon, so we mostly chilled out, unwound, and reunited familial souls.
It was good.
Family is good.
