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| Rioja and driver Mike |
Monday, January 11, 2016 – We had hoped to depart yesterday,
but didn’t finish our chores until late this afternoon. It was cold and dark
and drizzly, so instead of packing carefully, we threw everything in the car
and plan to sort it out on the road. We postponed all our shopping errands,
dropped off the library books, dropped the mail pickup forms with brother Jim,
dropped Sharman’s car at daughter Maggie’s, and were on our way south by 8:45. Thirty
miles down the road, the first stop was dinner in Tacoma, at the Spar tavern.
Janet joined us. We rolled into bed at her house at 11:30, vowing to get an
early start in the morning.
Tuesday, January 12 – It was cold and dark on the veranda at
6am when the alarm dragged me out of sleep and roused me from our comfy bed. Not
even the night‘s freight trains below the window had disturbed me. The plan for
a quick departure was forestalled by the offer of oatmeal with pears, pecans
and buckwheat honey. Actual departure was 7:15. Still dark and raining.
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| In the middle of my life |
A long day’s drive into night. Rained most of the day, especially
hard in the mountains of southern Oregon. The highlight was a three-hour
layover in Eugene for lunch with Sarah and grocery shopping. In our haste to
leave yesterday, we neglected to clean out and pack the food from the fridge. The
lowlight was a fight over driving. Mike wants to do all the driving. He thinks
he is the better driver (undisputed), likes to drive, likes to be in control,
and feels anxious and critical when I am driving. I balked at his chauvinism, condescension,
disrespect and disregard of my desire to be treated as an equal partner in this
enterprise. He eventually let me drive—in the dark, in the rain, winding
through the mountains among the semis—but it was excruciating for him.
Not likely to make Oakland tonite.
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