The Anderson's Great Move - Part I

I know y'all have been asking for details, and news and wondering where we are. Well, here it goes….

We thought we’d stay in Albuquerque. We bought a house, we settled in, we enjoyed the scenery and climate and loved the people. Ah…so this is what it’s like….

We realized we weren’t staying as long as we thought. (This meant that we had to finish the 9-mo. long bathroom remodel, it looked nice without blue painter's tape.) When we decided to move out, we moved fast—so fast that some people didn’t even realize we were moving. (I think we were gone in about a month.)

The Assignment: Move 1,466.24 miles~approximately (oh, yeah, and attend a wedding and attend a missionary return-both in Utah during the same two week time period.)

The Plan:
Part I: Go to wedding on Friday (travel to sister’s house Wed—3 hours, drive all Thursday to get to Grandma’s in time—8 hours) with reception that night, and open house Saturday—breathe on Sunday
Part II: Drive to Albuquerque—on Monday (620miles). Pack up and clean an entire house on Tuesday, Wednesday, load it onto a truck Thursday, drive back to Utah on Friday.
Part III: Scott run a ½ marathon on Saturday (in Logan), missionary return on Sunday, drive away forever on Monday (Alice’s birthday) and Tuesday
Part IV: Be in new house Wednesday, register for kindergarten Thursday, and unpack to be ready for school and work on Tuesday (Monday was Labor Day). Plenty of time to relax and get settled in.

The Reality: “The best laid plans of mice and men do often go awry…”

We managed to pack up the kids and get to my sister’s house on Wednesday. Scott didn’t show up until nearly midnight (it was his last day at work and he had to mow the lawn). Oh, did I mention that we were driving two cars on the first trip up? (Scott in the “new” ’97 Buick LeSabre, and me in the “old” ’98 Oldsmobile Cutlass—I know, classy cars.) We figured if we were leaving our kids, we might as well leave an extra car, and then Scott and I could enjoy driving to Abq and back together (pulling the extra car behind the moving truck on the return). Brilliant.

Well, our plans to leave early and get the 7 hour drive were thwarted by:

1. the cell phone registering Arizona time (non-daylight savings: -1 hour)


2. we left late: -1/2 hour


3. we took the long “short-cut”: -1 hour.

At this time we still had 7 hours left in our journey. (Wait, wasn’t that what we started with?) Three stops for one lane road construction, a horrible mickey-d lunch experience (ever try drinking a milkshake without a straw?) and we were cruisin’. Then came the race for the potty break—no trees to hide behind in the desert of eastern Utah. I think Scott was going 80 before he made it to the freeway (I-70).

Anyway. Just as we passed through Price, heading for the eternally loooonnnnnng canyon connecting to Spanish Fork, we were separated by a very slow semi-truck, and the car started to make funny noises.

So, I lose my momentum and I lost Scott (I was following him). The noise emitted by my “Gutless Cutless” sounded like a card flipped by spokes. Not good. Click-click-click went the engine, increasing in volume and decreasing in speed when I pressed my lead foot on the accelerator. I recall being pleased with 45mph acceleration.

Yeah, this was definitely not good.

I knew we were in real trouble when I pulled off the shoulder, let a bunch of cars pass, and attempted to return to my journey only to be nearly smooshed into a guardrail by a very angry semi. They have loud horns. I think my angels were working overtime. Alice was traveling with me, and we were both in tears. She said a prayer for us, and I rolled down the windows to let some air in. (I had turned off the air-conditioner when I realized we weren’t going anywhere fast…) With the windows down, and the rush of air and traffic coming in, I couldn’t hear how much the car protested, so I pushed in and kept going.

(Now, if you’ve ever driven through this canyon, you can appreciate that once you’re in, you’re in. Most of the drive is one lane each direction, with occasional passing lanes and lots and lots and lots and lots of hills. Torture in bad weather—we came up once over Christmas and Scott followed the dotted line to stay on the road—we couldn’t see the edges in the rain.)

What were my choices? Stop? Where?—there’s no shoulder and no space where you would be safe, I had no cell phone and no way of contacting Scott or anyone else. So, we kept going uphill and Alice prayed that daddy would find us. I hoped he realized something was wrong when we weren’t right on his tail (like we’d been all day) or he was going to be all the way through the canyon and have to turn back to find us—hopefully alive. So. We kept going, I drove with hazards on whenever I could and stayed as much on the shoulder as I could.

Finally I saw Scott—yipee%*&^ (exclamation points aren’t allowed.) He was pulled over and started going again when he saw us. I flashed every light I could get my hands on and yelled for him to get back off the road. He must have heard me because he pulled over again. (See, it does work) I pulled up beside him, and he rolled down his window and I think I tried for two minutes to say something and couldn’t because I was trying not to cry at the same time. (I found out later he thought I had stopped for a potty break in Price, gotten behind, and was mad that he hadn’t waited….this was the third time he’d pulled over to wait…and he didn’t think it was me because of the traffic I was plugging up—ie, the motor home right behind me going 30mph…I don’t usually drive that slow.) I finally spit out that it’s the car and clue him in to the cause of my near hysteria.

He listens.

Yeah, doesn’t sound so good.

Now, I will recount the “tender mercies” of the Lord in watching out for us.

1. We didn’t get smooshed by the cars behind us


2. the car made it to the top of the canyon (yes, it was mostly downhill after that)


3. we stopped at an old abandoned gas station with plenty of parking for two cars


4. we had cell phone reception (top of the canyon thing) to make some calls—to the mechanic brother-in-law who said it didn’t sound good, and to leave it and to the parents to tell them what was happening and why we would be late


5. I hadn’t over packed both cars for the journey up (this will make more sense in a moment)


6. my sister (and her baby) had declined the invitation to come with us a few days ahead of when she was planning on coming


7. we were driving two cars (this will make sense after part II)

We ended up transferring all of the essentials to the Buick (everything fit)—with more stuff or more passengers this wouldn’t have happened. We left the Cutlass with a note that we would tow it out in a day or two, and we took off for Clinton. (near Ogden).

Yeah. The rest of the day was uneventful.

The next day was the wedding—all day stuff, very beautiful and fun and not more in this story—hey, it wasn’t my wedding (but did I mention that it was my anniversary? 7 years, thank you).

Saturday Scott, Brian and Fletch (75% of the manpower) went to haul the car out of the canyon. We left it at a mechanics that afternoon. They were closed. Most are on Saturday.

Sunday we slept and stayed in our pajamas all day and ate ice cream out of the carton. Well, I would have liked that, but we had to get ready to leave the kids and make the return journey. That’s the next part….