Some take the low road. Others take the high road. Me? I take Interstate 10.
My journey to a life in Scotland has begun. And given that it started in the Los Angeles area and my adopted home lies to the east, it seems only appropriate to head out on America’s primary east-west motorway. As such, I’m writing this post just shy of midnight in the commercial oasis of Blythe near the California-Arizona border.
Actually, to rewind the tape a bit, this exceedingly long day started in South Pasadena, a quaint little town surrounded by the mega metropolis known as Southern California. My family and I have called that place home for the past 12 years. My task over the past six weeks has been to dismantle our abode, literally piece by piece. Two yard sales. Three trips to the charitable donation drop-off location. Numerous Craigslist transactions. A few more on eBay. And, alas, some dumpage.
But we didn’t offload everything. Far from it. Last Friday, an impressively efficient moving crew placed some 50 boxes of precious cargo into the back of a truck and hauled it to the Port of LA There it will eventually be loaded onto a slow boat to the UK. If all goes as planned, we’ll be reunited with those worldly possessions in Kelso, Scotland by the end of June.
Today, the balance of our belongings was carried off to an LA storage unit until August, when I’ll return to the States—specifically Dallas—and set up a small apartment to appease the providers of my day job (and, effectively, the underwriter of this blog). The plan is to spend two months in Kelso and one in Dallas (my employer is in the process of moving its North American headquarters there), continuing to work (and get paid) in both locations. That’s how it played out last fall, when my wife and I spent nine weeks in the Scottish Borders and—in addition to the billable work—I launched this blog.
Now, we’ve set in motion a plan to make this bi-country arrangement a permanent gig. Let me tell you, it’s no small feat. But assuming we pull it off, I have no doubt all of the sorting, selling, recycling, trashing, packing and unpacking will have been worth it. Big time.
For now, in the midst of the transition, I’m feeling one part euphoric and two parts exhaustion. With the house-clearing exercise now behind us, however, those scales should soon tip decidedly in our favor.
All of which is a long-winded explanation for why I’m in Blythe as of this writing. Tomorrow? The target is El Paso, Texas. Then on Saturday I arrive in Dallas, near DFW—the area’s international airport. The objective: to board a plane bound for London Heathrow on Sunday and connect to Edinburgh on Monday. By Wednesday night, I’ll be in Dornoch, preparing to play 36 on the Highland’s royal links the following day with a member and one my oldest and dearest friends. Hopefully by then my beat up middle aged body will have healed sufficiently to recall how to swing a golf club.
So if the I-10 brings me closer to that particular destination, then I’ll happily traverse it in my overstuffed Miata (FYI, a golf travel cover loaded with sticks and all of the required accouterments, will fit in the tiny roadster’s passenger seat). Each mind-numbing mile brings me that much closer to links pay dirt.