Most likely to win the Daytona 500 (Day 2)

We were back at it again.

On the road, past countless mountains and dead deer, making our way to North Carolina. We had gotten as far as West Virginia the day before, stopping at a hotel full of fishermen, ready for a morning tournament.

My mom was at the wheel for the entire first day and then most of the second, and the whole tenure of her driving was uneventful. When she got tired and asked me to take her place for awhile, I did so reluctantly. And not three minutes into my turn of driving, I got pulled over.

I have been known for my speeding at times. In high school, I was voted the most likely to win the Daytona 500. But I had never been caught so fast. I’m not even sure I had enough time to get up to speed, let alone over it. I must have, though, because I couldn’t have done anything else.

The officer asked if there was any reason I was speeding. I told him that I had just switched with my mom and I honestly didn’t know I was going too fast. That wasn’t completely honest, but he seemed to be okay with that answer. He let me go with a warning, but not before I had a panic attack.

I am suspicious that my mom somehow tipped off the highway patrolman of West Virginia, but she claims I am wrong about that.

I kept driving, staying a lot closer to the speed limit than where I had started, and my mother slept. She slept right up until I decided to stop at Ihop for some lupper. Though the food was good, the server was not. But he was nice, so we accepted our orders as wrong as he brought them to us.

When we left the restaurant, I asked my mom if she would drive again, or at least stopping informing the American police that I would be speeding my way across the country.

She drove.

We made it to North Carolina in one piece, and the first stop we made was to Baseball America. She wanted to go to the hotel, or to my new apartment, but I wanted to find BA first.

We went right by it the first time. We weren’t sure that the GPS even knew what it was telling us. But we drove around a little more and found the building. It was underwhelming, but we saw covers of the magazine all around, and pictures of ball players, so I knew I would be at home.

From there we decided to go to the new apartment and get rid of some of the stuff that was taking up the trunk and the back seat of my car.

We had more trouble finding the apartment than we did locating BA. Finally, we came across a complex entitled “University Commons”. Though we had made it to our destination, I was unrelieved. My new fear was that I would be living in a dorm, with partying students, unable to find any peace and quiet.

I was worried enough already about my living quarters before I saw that sign. Who wouldn’t be worried moving into a strange place to live with two strange people, without any knowledge of them whatsoever?

My mom had found the apartment on Craig’s List, and it seemed pretty perfect. It was an apartment with three girls, and one of them wanted out of her lease for November and December because she was leaving to go to Boston.

She was hoping to supplement her rent, and I made an offer. I would be paying $560 USD for the six weeks that I would be staying, and I would live with her two roommates. The only information that she gave me about them was that they were nice, and responsible. And I knew they were both female.

We tried to navigate our way through the complex, with no luck. There were no numbers or letters as far as we could see, and we were looking for D21. Eventually, we had come to a dead end. So my mom stopped the car and said that I should get out and go to the nearest apartment building to see what number or letter it was, so we could go from there.

I walked up and discovered that we were exactly where we wanted to be. D21 was on the second level, but we were there.

The instructions I had been given from the roommate I was replacing were that she would leave the keys under the mat so I could get in. When I walked up to the door and saw there was no mat, I went back to the car to double check that I was actually in the right place.

Indeed, I was. I went back up one more time and knocked on the door. Someone answered, and we’ll call her Thing 1, because even though she told me her name, I do not remember what it was. Names are not my strong suit. Thing 1 answered the door and I introduced myself.

She seemed to know that I was coming, but wasn’t expecting me to move anything in until tomorrow. That was okay with me because my mom still had her hotel for me to stay in, but I asked for the key so I would be able to get back in on my own.

She said the roommate I was replacing should have told me where the keys were. And I replied that she did, but she told me they would be under the mat. Thing 1 pointed to a mat that was right inside the door and under it were, surprise, the keys!

How would I be able to get inside to look under the mat to get the keys to get inside? Someone didn’t think that through. But I had the keys and was able to come back the next day so things were settled. Thing 1 was back in the apartment and I was on my way back to the hotel.

Another day, another adventure.