Road Trippin'

It's 5:00 Monday morning and I'm headed home, cruising down I-75 South, the only other headlights this early belong to the men and women who keep America moving - truck drivers.  My fiancee, Billy and I decided on an impromptu road trip this past Friday, to meet his dad, who had a truck delivery to make about 2 hours north of where we live.  So Saturday after I was done working at the local veterinarian's office, we loaded up with his brother Scott and headed north.

 Originally we were only meant to drive to Gainesville, but a combination of things landed us a tad farther north.  Along the drive, I searched online for hotel rooms, learning quickly that there were 90 plus soccer teams in the Gainesville area and people stay hundreds of miles away from the Daytona 500 - which also happened to be this weekend.  As I searched towns a little more north of Gainesville, we communicated with Billy's dad, who was in Georgia.  Ya'll know where this is headed? 

Newer laws require truckers to stop after driving for 11 hours each day.  You guessed it yet?  We were approaching his dad's cut off time for the day, which landed all of us in the friendly Georgia town of Tifton.  I had quickly searched the area where his dad was and found a hotel with an indoor pool, jacuzzi and - you guessed it - availability.  His dad was able to park the rig along the drive for the weekend a mere half hour before he would have been cited a log violation for driving over his allotted eleven hours.  We, however, had an additional drive time ahead of us.

Somehow, traveling to the unknown and the fun of road trippin' with friends brought back the freedoms of my younger days.  Just drive until you get tired and stay wherever you land, in this case, Tifton, Georgia.  We unfolded ourselves from Billy's trusty white Avalanche truck, and exchanged huge hugs with his dad, who had been relaxing for nearly 1 1/2 hours, and checked in to our temporary home for the evening.

We were meant to stay only until about 5:00 Sunday night, but found ourselves goofing off until almost 7:00.  Okay, so Billy was teaching his dad how to use the GPS navigator we got him for Christmas, and the lesson ran slightly over as they installed it into his rig.  (It didn't help that they decided to go for a swim afterwards, either).  After convincing a friend to climb through one of our windows at home to let my dog into the house for the night, we dined gourmet-style on Papa John's thin crust pizza.  (Another thing I rarely indulge in.)

It was such a wonderful weekend, being privy to the relationship of a dad and his two oldest sons who rarely get together at the same time due to distance, work and life in general.  They splashed at each other in the pool, floated in triangle formation as they discussed whatever guys talk about, teased each other about anything and everything.  It's a memory I'll always carry with me, close to my heart. 

We all woke up early at 3:30 am to leave the hotel at 4:00 (a time I rarely see unless the dog whines to go outside) in order to get home and get into the work week.  As I finish my hot cocoa, I listen to Brad Paisely sing about getting mud on the tires and gaze ahead to the lights of truckers, Billy's dad calls.  He's finished his log, and is now on the road behind us.  His drop is in High Springs, Florida - which I believe we've already passed as the clock ticks toward six.

May your week be full of unexpected joys and the time to enjoy those you love in life.