Leaving Rochester
We finally gathered up all our belongings and piled them all in a ten foot U-Haul Truck. Everything surprisingly just fit. Seeing how we did not have any furniture left since the garage sale and leaving the rest on the curb, it was revealing to realize that we had that much miscellaneous stuff. My parents also came up to help us with the trip. They loaded some of the belongings in their car and Elizabeth loaded up our car with some fragile items such as the television, VCR, and computer. The rest of the boxes that has been predetermined for storage remained in the truck in which I was going to pilot downstate. We had to finish the packing on the last night of our stay, for the next morning, we were to vacate the house and the city of Rochester, possibly forever.
Waking up groggy the next day, the clock read 7AM-a little too early for a non-work day. Nonetheless, there was work to be done. I stumbled around and found my way to the bathroom and splashed some cold water on my face. Looking in the mirror, I knew I was peering into the eyes of someone who was leaving a place where he had been for the last half of his life. Without a plan and without any regret, I smiled and nodded to myself, noting how everything was going to be all right.
The house was quiet as each of us pitched in and systematically packed up the rest of the belongings. Elizabeth and I walked through the house one final time before heading out. I recounted to myself some memories that lingered in the forefront of my mind, and for a breathless second, was able to savor honeymoonish times early in our relationship.
It seemed ironic. For the past week, the sky had been a gorgeous tint of light blue filled with the rays of golden sunlight. Today, it was overcast, and at the moment, a passing thundershower or two. Rain gathered on the windshield faster than the wipers could flick them off. A constant blanket of haze stuck behind the glass where the defoggers could only clear out an oval shaped portion just above the dashboard, forcing me to slouch incessantly to see the road ahead.
My parents led the caravan of vehicles outward, followed by Elizabeth, followed by me in a rickety 10-foot U-Haul truck. Beejing rode with me. Somehow, he knew we were leaving for good. Some people say that dogs just know. He stepped up on the seat, raised his paws on the passenger side window, and pushed himself up enough to look at the house as we left the neighborhood. I reached out to pet him. He stepped over toward me and laid his head down on my lap.
We soon hit the highway, and as tough as it was to see the road, I insisted not to travel below the speed limit. Gracefully, I passed both Elizabeth and my parents, and led the caravan downstate. Understanding that my parents knew the way, it was okay to venture forth. After a few miles, the only car that followed me was Elizabeth's. She loyally changed lanes when I changed lanes and committed to being the vehicle that was located directly behind me.
A few of hours passed, and we approached the town of Horseheads-a favorite hotspot of Elizabeth's and mine whenever we made a trip to New York City. We always stopped at the Dunkin Donuts where I ordered two donuts, Boston crème and a glazed, a medium black coffee, and a Mocha Coolata for her. We would then sit for a couple of minutes. I would ask her if she wanted a bite of a donut and she would tease me with her Coolata, noting how good it tastes and how tough it must be for me because I am lactose intolerant.
Jumping back into the truck, I noted the low gas meter and motioned over to Elizabeth to head over to the nearby Mobil station. She waited in her car as I filled up the truck with regular unleaded. Unbeknownst to me, I had left the headlights on during the time. Although it was a mere two minutes, it was enough to drain the rugged U-Haul truck's well-maintained battery. Fortunately, the next passerby's had jumper cables and we were well on the way.
In addition to the weak battery, I had noticed a couple of oddities about the truck. After trying the air-conditioner a couple of times, I noticed the absence of freon for the air coming from the vents was no cooler than the air without the air-conditioner running. It would have been advantageous not to run the air-conditioner anyway due to the low drive the truck possessed while climbing a slight incline. Additionally, I had attempted to turn on the radio twice before I realized that the speakers were shot and exhibited buzzing sounds.
The remainder of the trip was filled with times of extreme boredom. Once in a while, Elizabeth would dart forth and travel ahead of me for a few miles then shoot behind me again. Beejing just stayed sleeping for most of the trip. It was a grueling eight-hour drive before we reached the Holland Tunnel where we stumbled upon bumper to bumper traffic upon entrance to the tunnel into New York. There must have been eight lanes gridlocked together, full of cars honking, blowing their horns, inching forward by what seemed like millimeters. I looked over to the clock and noted that it was 4:30PM, other words, the start of rush hour. A couple of things had occurred to me at this point. One, I felt uncomfortable driving this truck through rush hour traffic in New York City and two, Elizabeth, being a newcomer to this city, would have a really tough time driving in this situation.
It was a few minutes before I decided to check the dials on the dashboard; gas was fine, oil pressure was fine. Nothing noted any red flags besides the temperature gauge-it looked a little too high. It bled from the green into the red zone and rose each second that passed by. I could not understand it-the air conditioner was not running. Nothing was running besides the engine. But yet, the needle climbed higher and higher into the red. We sat in the middle of a sea of cars and all I could ponder was what to do if steam were to start protruding from the hood ahead of me.
I remembered a trick that was once mentioned in passing years ago. Opening the windows, I then turned up the temperature dial to its hottest setting and fully switched on the fan, filling the cabin with blasting hot heat through its vents. I watched as the needle slowed its inclination and halted near the top just short of its pinnacle. Beejing darted under the seat and rested there on the passenger side. Pointing all the vent directionals away from me, I was still able to feel as sweat developed under my shirt in the already humid condition. I poked my arm out the window and felt slight relief as to poke my leg out from under the covers when it gets too hot in the middle of the night.
A minute passed before the needle slowly declined. It was working. By the time I reached the tollgate to enter the tunnel, my shirt was sweat drenched, and the temperature was back near normal. I looked in my rear-view mirror confirmingly to find Elizabeth still behind me.
We reached our destination one hour later. We were finally here-the start of a new life.
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