We’re on a Mission

Kia on an easy trail, we still had thousands of miles to go to get to Texas AND home.

Arches National Park

Mission: Texas (and a Change of Course)

March 11

Kia loaded. Easy trail out of town. Thousands of miles ahead—Texas, then home.

The past few months have been… intense. Life piles up like it does for everyone. But this one hit close. A very close friend of my wife’s—someone she’s known since age four—spent 36 days in the ICU in Texas battling COVID. She passed away a few days ago. We decided to drive from Washington to Texas to be with her family.

Departure

Saturday, 5 a.m.
Fuel topped, Kia ready, we roll south toward Portland, then east on I-84.

The drive is quiet. Predictable. Unremarkable—until Salt Lake City. Dinner and hotel. Usually, road trips call for Cracker Barrel. Not this time. Service sloppy, food bad, atmosphere worse. Eat fast. Move on. Orem, Utah for the night.

Four hours of sleep, up again. Plan: get close to Hwy 6 for the morning.

Arches Stop

Moab. Arches National Park. One of our “happy places.” Stops made, views taken in. Lunch at Zax Pizza. Town walked. Relaxed. Full. Content.

Then it happens.

Fueling up, and the world shifts. Jahanel’s on Facebook. Her mom had a stroke. Airlifted to Seattle.

After a few phone calls, Jahanel FINALLY reached her dad. Said there was nothing we could do right now,” Continue on your trip”

With hesitation and doubts, we continued on and made it down to Albuquerque, then the call came in that changed our direction.

Heading back home!

Long Haul North

Albuquerque stop: gas, sleep, updates. Exhaustion mounting. Up since 4 a.m., now 10 p.m. Turn the Kia around. Point north.

Straight through with one four-hour nap in Monticello, Utah.

Idaho: flapping noise. Pull over. Right inner fender liner shredded. Cause: dealership oil change months earlier didn’t reinstall belly pan. Annoying, but fixable. Keep moving.

Past Baker City, Oregon: “500 ft visibility ahead.”
Lies. Dark, torrential rain. Crawling 25 mph. Visibility 50–75 feet. Lines worn away. Hands white-knuckled. Wrist throbbing. No room for error.

Pendleton: visibility improves. Jahanel takes over. We roll in just after 1 a.m.

Seattle

Next morning, back on the road— ready for I-5. Usually a parking lot. Not today. Torrential rain in Tacoma slows us briefly. Rest of the drive smooth. Cruising 70 mph feels slow after half the country at 95.

Hospital drop-off. Fuel stop. First food since Pendleton. McDonald’s. Reach for handle sensor… nothing. Key fob? Not there.

Oh, right.
I left the Kia key fob at home.
Using her key fob for the trip. She has it inside the hospital, a few miles away!

Solution: Uber. Sixty bucks later, $12 McNasty meal, back on track.

Now: focus is clear.
Get Jahanel’s mom stable. Support her dad. Navigate the next steps. One foot in the car, one foot in the chaos, eyes on the road ahead.

Mission adjusted. Forward only.

Zak’s Pizza