On the Art of Un-Carpetbagging, and of Living Single

Welcome back, fan base.

Today marks the end of an era.  For the last eight years, the Houghs have called Florida their home.  No longer.  That chapter in our story is at an end, and now we return once again to the lands of our forefathers.  Michigan.

It hasn't sunk in yet that we're permanently moving, though - it almost feels like we're going away for an extended vacation, and that we'll be coming back to Orlando in a month or so.  Even rolling out of Ginger Mill in the moving truck didn't drive it home for me.

The Great Drive North

Anyway, yesterday, after Kris' caravan pulled out of the driveway, Yours Truly was left with his very own Bachelor Pad. . . albeit a scarcely-decorated Bachelor Pad.  I was charged with cleaning up the house one last time, emptying the fridge (after finishing off whatever leftovers were still in there), and making one last sweep through in order to make sure we weren't leaving anything behind on accident (mission accomplished, there.)

Of course, most of this was done in the hour or so leading up to when Dad arrived from the airport, so all day yesterday I decided to pass the time shooting BB guns, playing video games, drinking whiskey and craft beer, and watching movies.

You know, doing awesome stuff.

Here's a brief glimpse at what the last 48 hours have looked like in the world of Hough:

Yesterday morning, cruising up I-75 in northern Florida - morale high.

Meanwhile, this is what my situation looked like.  The internet was acting up (intermittent signal, really crappy bandwidth), so I ended up watching less Netflix and playing more Wii U than I had previously anticipated.  Poor me.

At a gas station, allowing the dog to use 'the services' and stretch out everyone's legs.

The last crap to be loaded up onto the moving truck

At another stop on the road.  These girls were apparently troopers on the way up.

I had a bottle of this along with a fridge of beer to keep me company throughout the day. . . somewhat awesomer than being stuck in a van with two kids for 1200 miles.

Watson does his business.

Trying out my Webley Mark VI on a series of vanquished beer cans in the backyard.  This British imperial/WWI-era revolver was a favorite of Lawrence of Arabia and Winston Churchill (as well as Indiana Jones), so it was one of those must-haves for me.  Some other time I'll devote a blog post to it, 'cause it handles like a dream. 

Taking a siesta

Hilt-deep in Mass Effect 3.  I love this game - shame I never get to play it (or any video game that doesn't involved princesses or Disney characters.)

Kris' convoy makes its way into Knoxville (I think.)

Morale - eerily high.

Mass Effect 3.  Still.

Stopping for the night.  Watson had a hard time refraining from barking at random sounds from the other side of the room's wall(s), so Kris had to bring him into her bed eventually.

Exhausted kids.

Early afternoon of the next day (also known as today), Dad was dropped off by a taxi from the Orlando Airport, and I began to throw the last crap from around the house onto the truck.

A clean, empty house.

As the Velez couple did for us, we left behind a bottle of champagne for the new house owner.

. . . and we left this behind for the trash people.  Our last gift for the city of Orlando.

Driving down to Majorama Drive. . . one last time.

Fare thee well, Ginger Mill.

After a half hour or so out of Orlando (after Dad hit a rumble strip and nearly flipped the truck, that is), we passed underneath the infamous Scary Bridge that we always drove over in order to go to the Voigts' place.  Now, we were going under it on our way towards I-75.

Scenic Florida.

At the first rest stop, about an hour and a half north of Orlando.

On I-75, heading into northern Florida.

Thanks for the eight years, two kids, and $30,000, Florida.

. . . and hello, Ohio of the South.

At a T & A Truck Stop (you can't make this crap up, folks.)

Unfortunately, Dad and I were pressed for time.

You can never have too many GPS systems going at one time. . .

At another rest stop, half-way through Georgia (around dinner time.)

Free maps?  We'll take 'em.

About an hour south of Atlanta. . .

One last fill-up before hitting Atlanta

We hit Atlanta at a reasonable hour, so although it was kinda busy, we didn't have to slow down all that much.  Still, driving a 26-foot truck through downtown Atlanta traffic is far from fun.  God, I wish someone would burn this stupid city to the ground. . .*

We stopped for the night about a half-hour shy of the GA/TN border, in a town called Calhoun, at a Super 8.  Super friendly staff, there.

Surprisingly enough, not a single thing had shifted in the drive up (despite Dad nearly flipping the truck a half hour outside of Orlando.)

Our hotel room

I brought this inside with me (the uke 'cause I was carrying it up in the cab of the truck with me, the other three were filled with super valuable stuff.)

More to come - stay tuned.

- Brian

* - did anyone catch that Civil War reference?