Born to Run
The surprising thing is how smoothly everything went. For a cross-continental move, what more could you ask?After 1891.7 grueling miles and $689.43 in gas money, I had arrived and almost completely intact. There was only one incident - I may have clipped mirrors with another truck on Canal Street. I guess that's what happens when you put a bike rider behind the wheel of a 16 foot truck.
I had expected to get emotional when I turned the ignition and started making my way out of Brooklyn. For better or worse, I think I was too caught up in the "holy sh!t please don't hit anything" ethos of the moment to really contemplate what was happening.
It all hit in the Holland Tunnel. Mid-way through, 100 feet below the cool morning sky, I passed the demarcation line between New York and New Jersey, officially leaving the Empire State behind.
Home was no longer "home".
Tears flowed as I looked back at the skyline with Springsteen's "Born to Run" echoing through the truck's cab. The tears lasted until Newark. "Get yourself together," I told myself. "There's a toll booth coming up."
From there, it was a long, boring drive down I-78. As I crossed New Jersey, I impressed myself with my knowledge about the state after so many visits to it (what I was doing in Central and Western New Jersey is another story altogether). In Pennsylvania, I laughed at the memories of the East Coast road trip I'd taken in 2004.
As I passed through a tiny sliver of "West 'by God' Virginia", I thought of Jan, my roommate back in Berlin who had spent a year in high school there. Wandering thoughts led me to "home", and what exactly "home" is. For me, there's nothing more awkward of an answer I can give than to the question "where are you from?" Technically, Houston, but that's certainly not home. I bristle at the word "Texas", so that's not the answer. I tried out European immigration, but the glass ceiling, among other things, kept both parties from fully adopting the other. I had just turned my back on Brooklyn, the one place I had considered "home", for a place I always enjoyed visiting, but no longer considered to be in the running for the title "home". Does that make me "home"less?
Night fell as I rolled up and down Appalachia. I had tried to control my speed, and thus, gas mileage, but with these hills and the lack of a cruise control, it was a near impossible task. The truck had a governor set at 75, so my make-shift cruise control was to max the truck. Effective, yet expensive. Finally, at about 2:30 in the morning, after 15 hours of uninterrupted, exhausted, and hungover driving, I arrived in Nashville at the Essell's.
"Chad von NYC! I bring you good news. There's a beer fest scheduled for the Saturday you'll be here. I already have tickets for you." That's the message Nate left on my voice mail the week before I left. What more could you ask for out of a friend?!
The beer fest was odd in that I didn't feel like I was at a life-changing juncture. It was just another day with a great friend and great beer. The whole weekend with the Essell's felt that way. No stress about moving, minor stress about the job search, but overall, I took it all in stride. What should I make of that?
After surviving the beer fest, I was back in the truck. Tennessee stretched on and on. Truckstop after truckstop and all I could think was "please get me out of Tennessee." That's when I got to Arkansas. What a prize.
At one of the truck stops there, a Pakistani guy was asking a gas attendant a question. The guy next to me, he looked exactly like Willie Nelson, turned to me and says "Man, I'm surprised he could speak English. Me, I'm born and raised here." Ahh, yes, the South. Everything I had spent years trying to avoid, once again in front of me, in all it's glory.
Finally, finally, I got to Houston. Mom and Dad helped me load an entertainment center and a queen sized bed friends were giving away before we could quickly eat and get to bed.
And even more finally, Austin. Coming up I-35, I remembered the first time I moved to Austin as an 18 year old. I was driving. My family was seated relatively comfortably in the Ford Expedition. Everything I owned was crammed in the back. At the time, I had taken everything in stride until I saw the dome of the Capitol and the Tower looming in the background. They both seemed so massive at the time. And so beautiful. My heart raced. Nerves. Excitement. Fear. Everything hit at once. It's the only time I remember anxiety creeping in on that move to the University of Texas.
Nothing of the sort this time. It was almost like saying hello to an old friend. I drove to our house at 16th Street and Nueces. I didn't even need a map to find it.