The Road to San Diego: Epilog − 9 July, 2007
Killing miles....That pretty much sums up the last five days of our cross-country whirlwind tour. We averaged 520 miles per day after leaving Venus' home in Tempe, Arizona. While 'net access was fairly easy to find, I was usually too beat to put any thoughts together. Now, settling back in a familiar leather chair, mouse in one hand, pint of Guinness in the other, it's time to put the finishing touches on this journey.
I want to fast forward to the events immediately following the end of the trip, since they are in some more surprising than any which occurred on the road...
We pulled into Charlotte around 8:45p on Saturday evening, after having decided that having an extra day at home to "decompress" from the trip would be in everyone's best interests. Everyone was road-worn and my need for personal space was manifesting itself more and more as the miles ticked up. The trip odometer registered 5725.5 miles when the convoluted operation of transferring gear from the rental van back to my pickup was complete.
After stopping for a last dinner together at a decidedly unpopulated wing joint in Charlotte, we made the short hop to Salisbury. Daniel gave voice to the same thought that we all had. Those last few miles seemed to be the longest. With the exception of a note posted on Daniel's car about an expired license plate, all seemed to be well at Wendy's home. Jasa wasted no time in bestowing love on her menagerie (two cats and a rabbit). In short order, only my belongings remained in the truck. A round of farewells later, I hit the road once more for the remaining 45 miles to my home in Winston-Salem.
I instinctively checked the mailbox as I pulled up to my driveway, even though the mail holding order instructed the post to be held until Monday. Surprisingly, I found my mail for the past two weeks bundled in a neat roll inside. Tossing the mail aside, I climbed out of the truck to greet Morris and Fred who had strolled out of the garage to see if their food bearer had returned.
Both cats were jealously anxious for my attention. As they performed their feline fandango around my legs, I observed that they had both eaten quite well and put on a pound or so in my absence. Mama, the third member of the Orange Posse, was nowhere to be seen. Given that she is very much a creature of the night, I wasn't too surprised.
I was pretty beat by this point, but given the amount of rain we had passed through on our way to Charlotte, I thought it best to unload the bed of the truck before calling it a night. With the final load of stuff came the bundle of mail. Clearing off a spot on my cluttered kitchen counter, I began sorting it into two stacks - keepers and the shred pile.
Naturally, the majority of the deliveries were destined for the recycle bin, but a letter from my employer gave me pause. The enclosed letter detailed how the administrators of our 401k retirement plan had goofed, allowing me to contribute more to the plan that I should have been able to in 2005. The upshot to this was that they were issuing me a check for $16,000 to correct the problem. On the one hand, this was a pain in the making, since I could already see Uncle Sam's hand extended for his cut come tax time. On the other hand, this was something like God or fate saying, "Here's your chance, take it!”
For the past couple of years, I've been saving what funds I could manage to enable me to take a two-year sabbatical from Cubeland (hence the title of this blog). Over the past few months, my monetary indiscretions have definitely cut into my savings plan. The trip to San Diego was the final straw, as we spent more money on food and lodging than we planned. Here, on watermarked paper, was a chance to get back on track. Granted, it wasn't exactly manna from Heaven. After all, this was money that I had originally put back for retirement.
When I began planning my corporate exit, I made a promise to myself that I would only travel so long as I did not need to touch ANY retirement savings. Nonetheless, here was a check that I didn't really want, but had no choice in its acceptance. I spent the next couple of hours behind a spreadsheet figuring out how best to distribute this "windfall". First, I would max out my IRA for the year in order to recoup at least a portion of the cash for retirement. Next, I would pay off the vacation bills. The remainder would go into the Appalachian Trail Thru-Hike savings account.
As I climbed into bed, I was alternately giddy that the slate was clean once again and aggravated about the forced reduction in my retirement account. Waking up late on Sunday morning, I turned my attention to yard work and a trip to my parents' gravesite to change out flowers. All in all, a routine day back at the ranch. It was good to be home, but I also longed to wake up in another city like we had done so many times during the trip. As the day slipped to evening, I began to ever so slightly dread reentering Corporate America. I wondered how the news of layoffs had affected the already abysmal morale. As it turned out, things had gotten a whole lot stranger around Cubeland.
