Under My Wheels: Toronto to Atlanta

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I’ll tell you why I avoided looking at too many maps before getting behind the wheel on Monday morning:  it’s a long freaking way from Toronto to Atlanta.  There are no shortcuts, no scenic routes.  Just miles and miles of asphalt in varying degrees of decay.  After (nervously) getting over the border – why am I always nervous? – I got down to the business of SERIOUS DRIVING – something I haven’t done since I drove from Calgary to Toronto three years ago with a 9 year old and a dog.

Observations:

  • It would be helpful if my 2012 Jetta (bought in Canada but made in Mexico) had MPH on the speedo.  It would save me from constantly having to do math and practicing my excuse speech for the state troopers.
  • Basic rule of SERIOUS DRIVING: keep the driver FED.  We had a lapse of feeding as we entered Cincinnati last night.  Heads rolled.  I’ve been apologizing for my behaviour most of today
  • Cincinnati seems nice and easy to navigate (assuming you haven’t been on the road for 8 hours and you are exhausted and hungry.
  • The Cincinnatian Hotel is very nice except I don’t know why there was a hole in our bathroom wall.  Not a bashed in hole but a hole on purpose – like a partial wall between the bathroom and the rest of the room.  On top of that, the doors to the bathroom were louvred.  Can you say “NO PRIVACY?”  I love my family but I do NOT need to hear their very personal bodily functions at full volume
  • The colourful and whimsical flying pigs are awesome.  I don’t know why Cinci has them but they’re awesome.  Kind of like the colourful, whimsical cows in Chicago.
  • It’s hard to give a city its due when you’re tired and anxious to get somewhere else.
  • Hubby snores like an asthmatic hippopotamus.  Ear plugs must be purchased and soon.
  • Americans LOVE the left lane of a highway.  For hundreds of miles, I sat boxed in by semis and the odd Floridian and dozens of others who steadfastly refused to move over.
  • Atlantans still love to drive fast.
  • Atlanta’s inner suburbs are lovely.  I remember when I first moved here I couldn’t believe how lush the place was – flowering trees everywhere.
  • Room service is always a rip-off no matter how hard you justify it.
  • Children need a hotel with a pool to burn off energy stored up from sitting in a car for two days straight.  Failing that, they need to run laps around the parking lot until they are calm.

So, there we are.  I am going to be in bed the minute the sun falls.  Tomorrow:  pool time and a day of relaxation.  The rest of the week is chock full of catching up with old friends – dinners, lunches, brunches, drive-by air kisses – whatever we can squeeze in.  There’s never enough time.

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