From the start it was a shit show. While that description may be crude, the phrase was stuck in my head and I uttered it repeatedly out loud.
It was 5:30 in the morning, still dark, raining and cold. I was tying a load of windsurfing gear to my car that just about matched the small Hyundai in size, and possibly weight (for sure it held triple the value). Three boards, three masts, nine sails and two booms. All but a Bic Techno, located at the bottom of the pile, was packed tightly into my over sized board bag.
Of course, we were an hour behind because in trying to take the fin out of the Techno, we found one of the bolts to be corroded in the threads. I tried arranging the gear in several different forms hoping one would allow for the fin to stay in place, but none seemed to do. The fin had to be removed.
I tried my best with a screw driver, yet no matter how much effort I put forth the bolt wouldn't budge. Frustrated and tired, I was low on ideas. Out came the cordless drill. (Yes, the thought of mutilating a perfectly fine sailboard did not sit well with me, but we were losing time and hell, it wasn't my board...)
In the back seat sat everything my beautiful girl friend Amy and I could possibly fit. Clothes, shoes, snacks, more windsurfing gear, we scrambled to squeeze in all we could until every square inch of space was occupied.
Between us we had a negative net worth (unless windsurfing gear counts as a form of equity), 1 job lined up, 1 car, no place to stay, and 3000 miles of road.
Out to the parkway then across the Throgs Neck. We gazed upon the city that never sleeps as though for the last time, then drove on watching as the world became less and less familiar.
For now it was good bye Long Island, next stop: The Gorge