The last two weeks in Illinois were wonderful. Our days were filled with cooking projects, restaurant-going, game nights with friends, ambitious cleaning efforts in my parents' basement, long chats at the dinner table, and many quiet afternoons on a blanket in our sunny backyard. We also celebrated a new pregnancy and engagement in our circle of friends!
As always the time felt far too short, and the goodbyes cruelly abrupt. How could we possibly convey how much we love and care about our friends and family, with just a simple hug, a plea to come visit us, and a promise to keep in touch? We love you all so much!
Before we knew it, it was time to embark on the second leg of our cross-country journey: a fifteen-hour haul to our land in Vermont. Unlike the drive to Illinois, the ride was sunny and beautiful, and our re-wrapped and stowed timbers were safe from pouring rain.
During the trip, we burned through dozens of episodes of our new favorite podcast, The Chicken Thistle Farm Coopcast, and radioed one another along the way with a pair of borrowed walkie-talkies (thanks Alex and Megan!) when we wanted to chat.
Breaker breaker 1-9er! Gotta pee at the next exit!
10-4 good buddy!
The journey was largely uneventful until somewhere in Ohio, when Tyler radioed to ask "does this road feel really bumpy to you?" The stretch of highway was perfectly smooth, and it quickly became apparent that one of the tires on our truck was disintegrating. Thankfully, it was a minor annoyance rather than a disaster—it hadn't blown out, and we were planning on buying new tires when we got to Vermont, anyway.
We pulled off the highway at the next exit (just a quarter of a mile limp along the shoulder), and inched our way to the nearest tire shop. In spite of the lost time, we were honestly grateful for an excuse to escape our air-conditioning-less vehicles during the hottest part of the day.
During the lengthy wait (it took them three hours to finish from the time they put our truck on the lift!), we chatted with other friendly customers, got work done on our laptops, and marveled at how horrible and stupid TV is. Before I turned the obnoxious thing off, I learned, from the History Channel no less, that Bigfoot most likely lives in our corner of Vermont!
After the longest tire change in recorded history (just ask the History Channel), we hit the road once more, making it into New York before calling it a night at a rest area. Tyler kindly offered to let me sleep sprawled out in our roomy truck, while he laid across the two front seats of our Honda Civic. I'm not sure how much rest he'll get, poor guy. Tomorrow, we only have a six hour drive to reach our land!