Starting to have doubts

We didn't park the truck and stop for the night until 2:30 this morning. That was by the clock in the truck, which always stays on Central time. It was actually 3:30 a.m. locally in Corfu, NY, which was where we stopped. Because of the dearth of parking spots at the Flying J at that hour, Mr. Trucker had a particularly "tight" fit and a difficult time backing in. It took him at least 30 minutes, with some spotting from a helpful Canadian trucker, and it was so painful to experience that I asked to get out midway through and go inside so I wouldn't have to watch or be there. Mr. Trucker says he thinks he burned 30,000 miles off the clutch and that his sphincter was doing a lot of dancing (and no, he doesn't mean his ESOPHAGEAL sphincter). That's one of his little sayings when things get dicey: "doing the sphincter dance", or: "I coulda squeezed a lemon with my sphincter."  Isn't that precious?

Due to tiredness and the extra complication of having to try to figure across time zones for today's travel plan, Mr. Trucker set the alarm an hour earlier than necessary, so we didn't get much sleep at all. I do, however, want to share THIS picture now so that my dear friend, Lil Deb, will know that I am trying to eat healthy out on the road.

Oatmeal with Craisins

I was scraping the bottom of the barrel for photo opportunities today. It rained all the way through New York and through the five minutes we spent crossing Pennsylvania into Ohio. There's not much scope for the imagination in Ohio. Plus, I got pretty choked up as we approached and drove through Columbus, which is where my beloved only older sister, Marcia, lived. It's been five years and five months since Marcia died of colon cancer, and a big light went out of my life with her passing. 

Columbus, OH

I've only been out a week and a day of my "year" on the road with Mr. Trucker and last night I came close to calling it quits. Particularly at 2:30 a.m. New York time when I tried to crawl into the bunk and Mr. Trucker told me he needed me to stay in my seat and help keep him awake and alert for our last hour of driving. I started to feel very confined and panicky;  I'm sure the sheer exhaustion didn't help. All I could think of was getting out of the truck, and I started to fantasize about just opening up the door and jumping from the moving truck up on I90, near Batavia, NY. My back hurts from sitting in this seat for up to eleven hours a day and I miss being able to go outside and stretch my legs whenever I want to. We don't get much exercise or movement, and we discussed that fact this morning, agreeing that we need to exercise, but not really sure how. We're driving, as I said, as many as eleven hours per day, so often we're too tired and it's too dark to go walking once we park for the night. I do have a small set of five pound hand weights under my seat, but I've only used them once since I came out.  I could use some prayers for endurance and health, any volunteers?

Here's a reminder to be patient with truck drivers.

Good stuff: Trucks Bring It!

and a color foliage shot

Somewhere in Ohio

Today's silly sounding place name: Canandaigua, NY