When my ex-husband graduated college, he and I drove his stuff from Champaign-Urbana (Illinois) to San Francisco. Or I should say that
he drove because I didn't know how to drive. I provided moral support. Or dead weight. Or something.
His car was a used, souped-up jalopy that wasn't really up to the trip. His car's method of complaining was to drop a part or two in just about every single state that we went through. It took us several days longer than we planned, and both sets of parents had to wire us money. Part way through, we took a piece of packing tape, wrote "San Francisco or bust" on it, and attached it to the bumper of the car. It seemed way too apropo. The trip also was a hell of a lot of fun.
The trip to Sacramento was a little like that. It took me close to 5 hours driving time (7 hours with breaks) to travel what is normally a 2.5 hour trip. However, most of it was fun.
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