Better Drivers. Doesn’t Matter. Papa Atlanta Roads.

WSB: Papa Johns semi truck crashes, overturns on I-75, causes massive traffic jams

Not a whole lot to add to this.  It’s been a while since I wrote about a good old fashioned truck crash on the highways, but I’m disappointed to see that it wasn’t one of those catastrophes that ended with pizzas all over the place, scattered all over the highways, and all over the medians and shoulders.

Considering the fact that this happened right at the doorstep of Kennesaw State University, a budding commuter college in the Metro Atlanta area that has slowly been creeping upward over the last few years, probably buoyed by the gradual improvements and successes of their athletic program, there would’ve been an easy joke about how it was probably some broke boy college kids going all Fast & Furious on a pizza truck, hoping to score some free pizza, as if nobody would suspect the nearby college on whom could have done it.

No, I’m actually pretty familiar the location of this particular one, because I’ve had to drive north on I-75 for work related purposes a bunch of times, and there’s a specialist I’ve had to go to a few times in like Acworth, so I know the exact spot where this happened.

Although the lanes do merge up around here from a prior exit as well as being an access point for the toller-coaster Express lanes, everything is pretty straight, which makes it puzzling to how a semi can get into such a catastrophe where they end up overturned and halfway buried into the wall.  Then again, never underestimate the incompetence of the vast majority of people on the roads, because there’s no conditions where someone can’t somehow end up gravely injured or dead, in even the most seemingly safe road conditions.

But really, what spurred this post to fruition is that whenever I hear the name Papa Johns, I think about the photo and ensuing memes that basically murdered his career with the company that was named after him, where he was spotted blitzed drunk out of his mind at a basketball game, and hanging off of two college bros like he were Weekend at Bernie’s.  Even though this happened like an eon ago at this point, some people never forget, and it’s what always comes to mind whenever I think of the brand.

That said, as mentioned before, not a whole lot to add, not a whole lot else to write about this.  Wish there was some more of a catastrophic wreck where cargo was strewn about, but such was unfortunately not the case.

If not to tease with, then why??

The Autopian: there exists a single Honda Odyssey Type-R minivan, and it has 550 horsepower, turbo charged, and a six-speed manual transmission

I’ve said it before, I have no qualms with minivans.  They’re spacious, versatile, provide tremendous utility and purpose, and I couldn’t give two shits less about the reputation that comes with being a parent driving around in one.  The only reasons why I don’t have one today is that the industry clearly knows the value of their utility, and when I was car shopping, none of them seemed remotely available south of $60,000, and the fact that mythical wife absolutely abhors them, and feels tremendously stronger about reputation than I could.

Needless to say, when I saw the words “Honda Odyssey Type-R,” it did elicit a jaw drop of the smallest sense, because it was the amalgamation of two things that pique my interest; the adult parent appeal of minivans, clashing with my boyhood fandom to Honda’s Type-R performance division, to create this wholly unnecessary, nobody-asked-for-this soccer rocket of a ride, that has garnered enough intrigue to where it’s becoming a brog post.

Everything about it is just so laughable, from the aggressive Type-R styling hints, from the grill, red H emblem, accents, to the more obvious things, like the quad pipe exhaust, aggressive as hell rims, and the hood air intake.  As much as I want to lament about how unnecessary this is, the fact of the matter is that this is the only one in existence, a one-of-one, the chic IT phrase of today to denote its exclusivity and rarity, and I think most everyone can agree that in spite of its existence, the chances of this, or anything closer to this seeing the light of day commercial remains pretty slim.

The go-parts of it are especially entertaining, considering most of minivans are hauling so much weight, there’s almost little logic to running anything other than a V6 motor of some sort, but in true Honda and true Type-R logic, they’ve smashed in a turbo-charged inline-four, from the Civic Type-R into this minivan, and are alleging a horsepower of 550 hp.  And paired to it, is a six-speed manual transmission, and the best part is that it’s coming out of the dash like the random Civic Si from the mid-2000s that most car heads agreed was kind of a flop; but it kind of makes sense in the context of a minivan.

So yeah, six-speed manual Honda Odyssey pushing 500hp+.  I’m surprised the Type-R badge on the back of it isn’t bigger, and frankly isn’t just the entire sides of the ride, like a Fast & Furious Team Toretto graphic, because if something is going to remain a 1-of-1, it needs to shout it from the rooftops a little better.

It’s like whomever designed this, they like the idea of being a sleeper car, unsuspecting and inconspicuous, but while they were putting it together, whether Honda superiors or their own arrogance started to intervene, and hints of obvious aggression and performance began to permeate the overall package of it.  It’s white and ordinary looking from the onset, but then there’s the rims, and when you see the back of the ride, window covered with more stickers than a Takahashi brother from Initial D, huge exhaust pipes that look more suited for an insurrectionist’s Dodge pickup, by the time you notice the tiny-ass Type-R emblem on the back, the jig is already up that this is no ordinary children hauler.

And not to go unnoticed was that the driver’s side was on the left, which is to say that this was clearly designed with teasing Americans in mind.  Minivans don’t really have the purpose in the world than they do in America, other than kidnapping in Taken-like films, and this would be too conspicuous for crime.  But it seems obvious that this was meant to tease and tantalize the American market, and I would have to acquiesce that it’s working, because I would probably trade in my car and our third car to get my hands on one of these, without even considering the consequence of being short one car for my household of three drivers.

Which leads me to wonder what the point of this thing coming to fruition even is, because like in the linked article above, minivans now are already costly expenses as they currently are, but then adding the cost of what a Type-R designation does to it, I can’t imagine that there are a lot of families out there willing to drop what I’d guess would be between $80-90k for a fucking minivan, even if that Type-R badge tickles the tits of all sorts of boyhood dreams of once-boys-now-dads out there.

All the same, consider me thoroughly entertained by the creation of a Honda Odyssey Type-R, even if there’s only going to ever be the one in existence.  My 18-year old self can get together with my 40+ year old self in my brain and lament on how great it would be to finally own anything with a Type-R badge on it.

When it rains, it pours

This past weekend wasn’t particularly the best, and it’s almost comical at all the nonsense that occurred over it that has put me into this semi-dilapidated mood that I’m actually applauding myself for holding it together and not go into complete crash out mode.

Friday started off bumpy on account of #2 being sick, still recovering from one of those stomach ailments that kids pass around like candy, and it’s still to be determined on if it’s going to hit me at some point soon, seeing as how it’s pretty formulaic in how the bugs incubate for 48-72 hrs. before blowing out, but at least she was on the mend, and obviously kept home from school.

I saw my dad on Friday, where we watched Team Korea get obliterated by the Dominican Republic, or at least the first three innings before it was very obvious things were not going to go the way we wanted, but that wasn’t a bad thing at all, as much as it was something to be expected.  It was good to see my dad and spend some time with him, but seeing him on a Friday was deliberate in the sense that I had no intention of seeing him over the actual weekend days, because I knew I’d be busy.

All the same, regardless of the random lunch time hour in which I drove up to him, I still got annihilated in traffic since Atlanta’s rush hour is 7 am to 3 am, and there’s pretty much no time in the day where there’s not red on the Google map somewhere.  I had also intended to give blood, because I’m altruistic like that and am not the least bit influenced by the $40 gift card incentive + free t-shirt, but the donation center I went to didn’t have a chair available for me, so there was an L there too, so although it was good to get in a visit with my dad, the productive things I wanted to accomplish additionally fell through.

As for the weekend itself, it was pretty much spent almost entirely deep cleaning my house, which left me feeling some things, because I absolutely want to have a clean home, and prior to the cleaning, it was in a state of such disarray, it fed into a lot of my general unhappiness and cluttered state of mind, because I was always in a situation where nobody but me was willing to lift a finger to put any effort into maintaining the home. 

But when the cleanliness of the home was reliant on someone else, everything gets done, but on their terms and not necessarily collaboratively with me, and I do feel a sense of bitterness that I don’t feel like my own household respects me enough to want to give a fuck about the home for my sake, until they need to give a fuck for their own purposes.

I’m talking about mass de-cluttering, filling up the entire bin with shit getting thrown out, shampooing carpets and clearing counters and shelves, and I’m glad that a lot of this shit finally got accomplished, but at the same time, I’m annoyed that this never gets done when I want to have an orderly home, and only gets done when it’s on someone else’s terms.

Such, were the resentful thoughts swirling through my head, as I worked basically sun up to sun down each Saturday and Sunday.

Except Sunday, I did have a little reprieve and a hard stop, on account of a localcar wrestling show that I was going to hit up with some of my friends.  It was a fun show, and I dropped a little cash to meet Shotzi Blackheart, since I’ve long been a fan of her and her work, and I was thinking to myself, for all the hard work and negative thoughts of the weekend, this was a pleasant way to wind things down.

But then when I’m pulling into my driveway, I’m looking at my car (I had taken the third car), and I can’t help but think it looks off-kilter.  I pull closer, and I see that the rear passenger tire is completely flat, and I’m like wtf.  My knee-jerk reaction is fear that the tire was slashed or something malicious, but cooler heads prevailed, and as I was examining the tire, I could see the silver of a nail that I had picked up, at some point on Friday, as it hadn’t been driven at all on Saturday, and over the span of the last 43 hours, it completely bled out.

Again, I have to applaud myself for keeping somewhat calm in spite of the obnoxiously inconvenient revelation, but we also had company over, and I didn’t want to be in a state of distress in front of a bunch of my wife’s friends.  But fortunately, the tire wasn’t in such a state where it couldn’t inflate, and I quickly deduced a plan to play some car Tetris the following day between mythical wife and au pair, and I could take my car to a local joint and hopefully get a patch, since the location looked like it might still be able to be patched.

However, those plans were derailed in the middle of the night as it became quickly apparent that #1 had caught the dreaded tummy bugs from her sister, and they had incubated and blown up, and at like 2:20 in the morning, I wake up to find my child standing next to my bed in discomfort, and I have to heap praise onto my eldest for keeping it together long enough to prepare for the unfortunate vomit party that began shortly afterward.  #2 just exploded like the kid from The Exorcist, in contrast, but the silver lining is that we did not have a repeat with #1.

Obviously, she was not going to school in the morning, but this did put a wrinkle in my hopes to get my car fixed.  And at 2, 3, 4 and 5 in the morning, it’s hard to have much coherent thought on pivoting, but I was ready to punt on car repairs for a day, because obviously my kid was a higher priority.

Fortunately, mythical wife called in, and with enough coverage between adults and kids, I was able to field the tire issue.  The drive there was tense, seeing as how I had a tire actively leaking air, and I could hear it hissing before I got into the car, but thankfully I made it to the Costco where I got my tires, dreading that they’d tell me that my 2-month old tire needed to be replaced for some bullshit reason.

After dropping off my car, I thought this would be the perfect time to treat myself after all the nonsense that I’d been going through, and get an iced coffee, since Costco food court iced coffee is surprisingly delicious, like maybe two tiers beneath a Tim Horton’s ice capp.  But naturally, for whatever reason, their machine was down or gone, but the point remains that I could not get what I was hoping to get.

Yes, that last one is about the first world of first world problems there could be, but hey, I’d been going through a lot of shit over the last few days, and I just wanted some fucking coffee.  Fortunately, the tire was an easy patch and without incident, and one of the two major red flags that I had to deal with was immediately wrapped up.

Either way, to add insult to injury, the headline of this post wasn’t just a figure of speech, because amidst all this bullshit, the weather decided to go full Georgia fake spring meme, and spontaneously drop into the 30s and 20s as the day progressed, with thunderstorms and freezing rain, so it quite literally was pouring during the worst events of this post.

I may have barfed out 1300 words summarizing how obnoxious the last few days have been, but again I want to pat myself on the back for at least having the gumption to not take it out on others, and not let it affect my blood pressure too much, but I’d be lying if it weren’t mentally, and physically taxing, seeing as how I’ve been getting even less sleep than ordinarily, in order to take care of sick children.

But it was just too much nonsense to not summarize and make brog content out of it, and here we are.

The peace of mind of the long way

I hate commuting.  I often lament that among the great things that happened during the pandemic was the dramatic reduction of traffic across the board, and when I was one of the poor unfortunate souls who had to begin returning to the office, commuting wasn’t so bad because there were still a whole lot of lucky schmucks who were still allowed to work remotely and didn’t add to the cars on the road.

Nowadays, traffic is right back to the same shitshow things were before the pandemic, and unlike the days when I wasn’t married and didn’t have kids, I can’t be an early bird, and willingly head out to the office at a nice early time in order to have a more peaceful commute.  No, I have to leave at a strict time, determined by how long it should take me to get to the office, and basically into the teeth of the morning rush hour.

Honestly, I actually have it kind of good, in terms of mileage.  My commute is basically 7-8 miles each way, no highway driving, but it still takes the better part of 30 minutes to traverse it, because of fucking traffic.

Worst of all is the final mile of my drive, where there are some mornings where that last mile takes as much time as all the other distance before it, just because of the sheer overpopulated massive of human existence that clogs up the roads, right in front of my god damn building.  Frankly, this daily malady of the final mile is largely in part why I’m so salty about commuting, and why the thought of driving into the office four days a week is always met with a sneer.

My office park is made up of several buildings and has about four entry points.  However, it’s also close enough to the interstates to where the main roads just outside of the complex are often completely clogged by hordes of assholes trying to subvert the highway, preventing people who are just trying to get into the complex from being able to get in, not without waiting through numerous lights and taking some creative detouring just to get to work.

But recently, I accidentally came across an alternate route, that perhaps it’s still too early to tell, but in the few times that I’ve used it, has been a refreshing breath of fresh air, and has alleviated a tremendous amount of commuting anxiety from my daily list of grievances.

One of the access points has a two lane left turn into the grounds, but everyone camps the right lane, because there’s a fairly immediate right turn upon turning in.  Anyone who is in the left lane is obviously a supervillain akin to Thanos who will definitively try to force their way into the right and cut in front of others like the galaxy’s biggest dick.

The other day, I got in the left lane, solely because I wanted to just make the light, and the time math dictated that it would be more efficient to make my left, camp in a parking lot for a minute while the mass of humanity that wanted to make their immediate right turns made their right turns, and then leisurely hop in the back of the line.  But I also had the wherewithal to give a quick glance to Google Maps, and I saw that even if I didn’t make the immediate right everyone was preparing to bully me out from making, the road would ultimately loop and eventually connect to a road that I needed to get on anyway, so I thought, hm, let’s just see where this takes us.

It’s slightly longer, maybe adds a minute or three to my overall drive, but so far, has shown to be sparsely used, no speed bumps to further stress out my 13-year old whip, and by virtue of taking this road instead of the routes that 95% of other commuters that work in my office park take, seems to get me out of the traffic light rhythm from all the other clusterfucks of entry points, so I’ve been able to leisurely cruise into the parking garage without any slow fucks trolling in front of me or any tryhard assholes tailgating behind me.

But most importantly, it has completely removed the mentally stressful need to fight and battle to get into the office complex, which is a tremendous weight lifted off my mind.  I’m often time the guy who will take back roads and alternate routes that might be longer, but if it keeps me moving and is less stressful, they’re worth it.  I’m just very pleased to have found an alternate route on my tedious commute to the office, and I’m hoping it continues to be the refreshing change of pace that will help calm down the stress of commuting for years to come.

The joy-not of driving the third car

In another episode of overlooked dad things, I’ve mentioned before how in my household, I have the permanent short straw, well in most cases, but in the context of this post, when it comes to the cars we drive.

Technically, I have two cars in my name that I am paying for, and then we have mythical wife’s old car that is free and clear, but is also 13 years old, and comes with all of the anxious hangups that go along with driving around in a 13-year-old vehicle.

This post doesn’t exist if I actually got to daily drive one of the two cars I pay for, which means my daily commuter car is the third car in our household, which on paper really isn’t bad, as it is small and compact, making it ideal for my parking garage that has the smallest fucking parking spaces in existence and gets very good gas mileage, to which my daily commute of maybe 12-13 miles round trip means I’m filling up maybe once a month.

However, like I said, it’s a 13-year-old car.  With the overwhelming majority of those years being not mine, which means there’s a lifetime of history and little things that I’m unaware of, service and maintenance that I don’t know how well has been maintained other than the time in which I began to oversee it.

Whereas it was a sturdy, peppy car when mythical wife was mythical girlfriend and we first got together, the car is now 13 years old, and definitely feels its age.  Lots of the mechanisms feel tired, the transmission feels slippery and I permanently drive it in manual shift mode to get around all the wonky gear spacing and super revs when sneezing on the gas pedal. 

I don’t have the power to overtake anyone that isn’t standing still and have to concede my position way more often than I sometimes care to, and I spend admittedly more time than I probably should, lamenting on the day in which I don’t have to be the one in the third car and might actually get to permanently drive my own car that I don’t have share and adjust every time I get into it.

If it’s idled too long, something overheats or otherwise happens where the revs take on a higher pitch.  The tires in the rear are balding and should really be replaced, and the car’s at its time of life in which it’s always a question on whether or not these are the last new tires for them or not.  And of course, there’s all sorts of rattles and creaks that even Batman couldn’t identify.

But the absolute worst part of the third car is the horrendous lines of sight for probably anyone over 5’2, because mythical wife had had the car before I drove it regularly and she has no idea what I’m talking about.

The photograph above is what I see when I’m at a stop light – which is not the stop light at all.  I have to crane my neck at an uncomfortable angle in order to see the stop light, which really fucking sucks when a light stays red forever, necessitating me to keep my head in an awkward position to ensure that I see it turn green and begin driving accordingly.

At 5’9, I am not as tall as I wish I were, but I wouldn’t classify myself as someone who could be referred to as tall.  And yet, even when the seat is as far back as I can and adjusted to be as low as it gets, I’m still in a position to where if I ‘m not the third or further back car in a line of cars, I probably can’t see a traffic light in front of me without craning my neck.  Which sucks doubly because I always want to be the first car in a line so that I can drive with nobody in front of me because the existence of other commuters is what ruins the otherwise enjoyable act of driving cars, so I’m often in a position to where I concede sitting behind others, or put myself to where I have to crane my neck in order to monitor the light.

It’s every time I have to sit at a light craning my neck that this post has materialized in my head.  It doesn’t happen all the time, and some commutes I’m lucky to where it doesn’t happen at all, but then there are some days and some intersections where I just don’t get so lucky, and I have to sit there looking and feeling absurd as I how I often feel about the whole notion that I’m the one who always seem to have to make all the sacrifices in life for the sake my family.

Things White People Like: Cars that are kind of like Broncos

I know that I’ve written several times about white peoples’ fascinations with the revived Ford Broncos, but over the last year or so, I couldn’t help but notice how many car manufacturers have slowly been creating their own vehicles to try to tap into that same market, of “white guys who are tired of how there are minorities that have the audacity to buy Jeeps, so they’ve all transitioned over to Ford Broncos, except now they once saw a black guy driving one, so they’ve been searching for something else.”

What finally spurred me to actually write about this after all this time that this general topic has been swirling around in my brain from time to time, is that this particular morning, I pulled up behind one of these Bronco clones, thinking that I was pulling up on a Land Rover  Defender or maybe a Hummer EV.  But then I saw the Lexus badge, and my brow scrunched and I was like, seriously, Lexus is in on this shit now too?

Sure, it didn’t help that the car had an aftermarket lift kit, and didn’t look exactly like the Lexus shown to the right, but the fact that someone would go through the trouble and finances to make their “luxury” Lexus look more rugged and, like a Bronco, by adding a lift kid and wide wheels was fascinating enough, and sure enough when I passed by him, it was a guy that basically looked like Adam Scott, which is to say a pretty generic looking white guy, no disrespect to Adam Scott I love Parks & Rec and Severance

The point remains is that Lexus is on the game now too, and now I can recall numerous vehicles that fall into the category of being Ford Bronco wannabes, targeting white people, and they are most definitely biting on the bait.

Sure, when I actually line them up like I have in this image, they don’t really look as identical as they seem to look when you see them one at a time in the wild, but the point remains is that they’ve all been inspired by the success of the Ford Bronco, and are all trying to get a slice of the pie.  Which is fascinating in the sense that Ford as a brand doesn’t really have a great reputation, seeing as how their cars are basically manufactured from recycled Rubbermaid parts and the cheapest metals they can find, but all these luxury makers are crawling all over each other in order to emulate a general shitbox, but with their own pretentious spins on them.

The Lexus RX550, the Land Rover Discovery, the Hummer EV, and the Rivian whatever, all have that general same look and feel as a Bronco, except that they’re probably $20K+ more than a Bronco.  And the only real bragging right a driver of a clone really gets is the insinuation that they have money because they plopped $20K+ more on their whip than they could have had a Bronco for, but then again, fewer things say white people more than flexing finances, even if it’s not always necessarily an intelligent choice.

It’s just so funny though, because the Bronco is a rip off of a Jeep, which is basically the greatest vehicle in the world at off-roading, but it’s beyond obvious that anyone in a Bronco, much less any of their egregiously more expensive poser-clones, the closest thing they’ll ever see to being off-road is when they go to a farm in the fall for pumpkin picking.

But then again, white people.

Thanksgiving musings and perspectives

For the Thanksgiving holiday this year, my house trekked north back up to Virginia to spend some time with my side of the family.  Such was always something I was pretty ambivalent about in the past, but ever since I had kids, I do feel that there is some importance in having them have connection with my side of the family, not to mention try to build relationships with the litany of cousins they have, as I did growing up.

Overall, it was a very good trip, and I’m happy to have spent a good bit of time with my sister, cousins and parents, but most of all, I was happiest that my kids got to spend time with their cousins and my family members and be able to build relationships and connections with family that they don’t get to see too often.  My happiest memories looking back on the trip were seeing my kids playing exuberantly with their cousins, and I’m thankful for my niece, nephew and the kids of my cousins all being so good to my children, and I’m optimistic that they can have a similar upbringing to my own, where the cousins all were pretty tightly knit growing up.

However, an introduction like this doesn’t happen if there weren’t some things that weren’t positive, and unfortunately for this holiday there were some bad things that definitely put a damper on things.

Firstly, to cut to the chase, I hit a deer while driving, and my car suffered a nasty crack on the bumper as well as the headlight assembly.  I was driving along a road that I’d driven thousands of times in my life while living there, and I’d never seen deer on this stretch of road before.  I was probably going no faster than 25-28 mph while accelerating when the deer popped out of a grassy median and it was so bang-bang fast that I was a good 200 feet past and continuing before it really registered what had happened.

The thing is, while on the drive up, I distinctly remembered having a thought about just how many dead deer I had seen on the shoulders all over I-85 in southern Virginia, and how I really should keep my guard up while driving at night on this trip.  But as I said, this was a stretch of road that was long developed, not very close to any real wooded areas where deer might like to reside in, and where I’d never seen deer before in my life.  So my guard was definitely not up at this moment in time, and it just figures that would be when my premonition came to fruition, and I plastered the poor animal.

I replayed the moment in my head countless times at this point and the thing is, I’m not mad at the deer or the species as a whole, like I might’ve been in the past for putting me in this situation.  Northern Virginia is an endlessly developing area, and it’s a no brainer that the constant sprawl and development in Fairfax county and surrounding areas are displacing the wildlife all over, and next thing I know I’m hitting deer in a place where I’d never seen deer before in my life.

What I am thankful for is the fact that nobody in my car was hurt, and to my knowledge nobody behind me appeared to be hurt, as I was the first car in the line of cars turning onto the road, and it looked like there were plenty of braking going on behind me.  My kids were little zombies watching the iPad, so they didn’t notice anything but the sound of impact and the bump of me running it over, and didn’t seem to care because they were too busy watching Little Einsteins.  This wasn’t a conversation that I would’ve wanted to have had, so I take it as a win, on all accounts.

Additionally, despite looking pretty nasty when I originally did stop, when I got to my cousin’s place, we were able to pop the initial dent back out, which was a big victory, as it was pushing the wheel liner into contact with the tire, and there was initial talk about cutting it off in order to remain drivable.  A little duct tape and a few zip ties, and my car was safe enough to have made the return trip to Georgia, to where its repair is now on the table in coming weeks.

Here’s the thing though-as much as something like this probably would have tanked the entire trip for me in the past, I realized that there were so many other victories to be had given the circumstances, that the main L taken that will cost actual money and likely aggravation of playing car Tetris or a rental didn’t seem so bad.  Plus, when I got back to my cousin’s place, dinner was ready, two beers, a fire pit, reminiscing with my cousins while hearing the sound of my kids having a blast with their cousins really rescued the night and I like to think that this was all one of those, you know you’re maturing, kind of scenarios.

Also, waking up to the worst news possible of hearing of a passing of a loved one to my brother’s family really does knock everything else into a genuinely thankful perspective, on Thanksgiving.  Pretty much nothing can top that as far as bad news is concerned, but again, trying to find the silver lining in bad situations, given the circumstances of the departed’s final days, there’s probably a modicum of relief in knowing that they’re no longer in any pain or having to fight the good fight any longer.

As sad and heartbroken I felt for my brother’s family, it really did help put everything else into perspective about the things that myself and everyone else could genuinely be thankful for.  My kids were safe and unaware of the deer situation, most everyone in my family was in good health.  I got to spend some time with my parents with my kids, and I’m glad that my kids have interactions and memories with them, because I can count on one hand how many times I’ve seen a grandfather in my life.

Even the whole car debacle afforded me a bonus good memory, because when I took the car on a shakedown ride to make sure it was safe at highway speeds and cornering, I took the opportunity while I was alone to pop by a close friend’s house to say hi and wish them a happy Thanksgiving.

The drive back was long, and doing Richmond to Atlanta was the longest stretch that my kids had ever had to endure in the car, but equipped with a lot of snacks and an iPad full of downloaded shows, they did great.  My only gripe is the feeling of being a glorified Uber driver, since I have to focus on driving, and none of my adult passengers can get their heads off of their phones to actually converse or be remotely the types of passengers to help a ride not feel so long.

But as a whole, I still look back at Thanksgiving positively.  My kids had a great time with my family, and I was happy to catch up with everyone who came to dinner, and I can only hope that future family gatherings in the future will be as good as this one was, but hopefully with no more deer incidents.