Moose Saddle Soars


The wait is over, my car has arrived in Alaska.

Yesterday I got the call that the car was released from the shipping company and ready to be delivered.  As if to go full circle, the car was dropped off in the parking lot where I work; as it was picked up from the parking lot where I worked.

Before it Left

It took 30 days for the car to make the move.

When it Arrived

I suspected that the car would be a bit of a mess, and it wasn’t too bad.  Birds took a bit of target practice on it, but birds always did  like to aim at my car (as well as cats, bugs, and squirrels … no elf, not you).  The radio antenna did break off, and I got an claim on that with the movers kicked off, but otherwise its in pretty good shape.

But when I drive it, it doesn’t feel right.

Part of it is that I drove three different low riding sedans for the last 30 days, so sitting up in a crossover SUV is definitely different.  But I drove that car for 33,000 miles in the lower 48; I should just slide in like putting on an old glove.  But it isn’t quite the same.

I think its because driving in Alaska is a bit unique.  There isn’t the interstates you get used to down south.  The roads are rough as well.  Everything here is built on permafrost … that isn’t a joke, its true; even in Anchorage the ground is frozen a few feet below the surface.  A road crew can lay a road and expect it to sit well for a time, but the slight differences in the ground and warming effects cause the roads to sag and pothole anytime.  You always know when you are in a well driven lane, and always know when you aren’t up here.

But I think its just because its like trying to fit an old friend in a new place.  I love my car, that guy (and it is a ‘male’ car, he’s pretty kickass and likes him the tough roads) and I have put the miles down in some great places.  But this isn’t a muddy road in Oklahoma, or the pig farms of Iowa.  This is Alaska, and its new to him, and maybe new to me too still.

In time we will fit once more, but it takes time to shake off the memory of riding low in a rental.  The saddle soars from Marty the Moose takes time to heal.


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