the hood in the wood.

I was not to be surprised by anything I saw here, because Rita had taken care to prepare me for it. For example, I had to enter through a special "security" gate, where I was required to hold up a piece of paper with a number on it and look into a camera. I did this, but the gate refused to open. I continued to look at the camera as cars lined up behind me.

When the gentelman in the snazzy pearl-white Escalade began to lean on his horn, I pressed the "talk" button under the camera and asked to be let in. A procession of unintelligible words was heard from a speaker. The gate opened.

Things inside went swimmingly as I related in a previous post. The door was forced shut on the truck, the cars were stuffed with stuff, cellphone numbers were exchanged (again), and it was time to be off.

I grab Nonna’s hand and pull her up into the passenger side of the truck. She looks at me sideways as she buckles her seatbelt. “I feel better when I do this,” she explained. I read this as a measure of her confidence in my driving ability. She crosses herself. “I always bless myself,” she says. “Bless both of us,” I suggest. We rumble off , and the place I have decided to call “The ‘hood in the Wood” fades into a memory behind us.

At the diner Rita talks and I rant and Nonna watches us. Occasionally I catch myself using a bad word and say "excuse me" to Nonna but Rita assures me that a) she's not paying attention and b) she's heard it all before. I can see the second part but the first one I'm not sure about.

It’s a very, very long ride. The big U-Haul won’t go over 45 up the hills, and I’m afraid to go over 60 down the hills, because Nonna seems to be able to read the speedometer from her station far to my right. She doesn’t say anything, but I know that she knows. And I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. Anyway, it’s doubtful the truck will go any faster. The Delaware Water Gap is beautiful and I have a hard time keeping my eyes on the road as we pass through it. But I stay focused for Nonna’s sake.

At long last, we arrive at our first stop, but not before stopping for water, having to detour to avoid a closed road, and being stopped by a bridge just wide enough for a small car, forcing us to backtrack. The boys have installed the couch in the bedroom before I even have my seat belt unbuckled.

Most of Rita’s stuff has been delivered to Nonna’s and by now she’s writing up her price tags for the impending garage sale. We did manage to chip the china cabinet in three or four places while squeezing it into her apartment, and we all felt bad about that. But short of cutting it in half, there was no other way to get it in.

I have to admit, I’m pretty exhausted by the end of the day. I also had to request a clean T-shirt from Rita, which I have yet to return. Rita and Nonna were so delighted with my company that they made me eat at a Chinese restaurant with them (they had already forced me to eat breakfast and lunch). I complied, not wishing to be unfriendly. I even let them pay for the meal.

I hear that Nonna has pleaded with Rita to refrain from the purchase of any more real estate, so this may prove to have been a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Make no mistake about it. Rita is far more clever than she would let you believe. As a trader, she ranks with the best because she obeys the cardinal rule: dump the bad ones. And that’s just what she did at the Hood in the Wood.

That’s if they ever have a closing….

the adventure continues.

The loading of the goods was nearly uneventful. Thankfully, Rita bribed her nephew into helping load by promising him a couch. They were negotiating having him help us unload, too...he had his eyes on the matching chair. He brought along a young man who recently underwent knee surgery to help.

It was decided that The Navigator would ride in the big truck, because the driver has no idea where to go. We were separated from Rita along the way. The Navigator was visibly disturbed and insisted we sit near a window when we got to the diner so that she could watch for Rita. I made small talk and said things like, "I'm sure she'll be right here very soon," and stuff. I tried to keep her distracted so she wouldn't worry.

I was hitting redial for the second time to call Rita when she walked into the diner. "Where were you!" asked Guess-Who.

They are chatting it up and I feel rude typing this while they do (because they keep talking to me and I keep saying "mmmhmm, yup" while I type this).

Sounds like the deal was cinched with the nephew by throwing in a couple of lamps.

Stay tuned for more...

but wait, there's more...

The driver informs me that we have gone 86 miles. Rita has read me her biography. Angelina “The Navigator” has become a back seat driver, but is not too bad about it.

I asked for a donut, so Rita took me to a supermarket. But what I meant was a Dunkin’ Donuts drive thru; we compromised and settled on a diner.

Along the way we passed signs that said, “The Land of Make Believe.” How appropriate.

Early in the trip Rita mentioned that she falls asleep while driving. But she hasn’t yet. We’re at the diner so more later.

The Navigator picked up the breakfast tab. That was nice.

Rita is talking on her cellphone. She talks so loud that it hurts.

She is getting directions to the hardware store/U-Haul truck rental place. She won't shut up.

However, it was interesting to learn exactly what happened to the development she is moving from. It all makes sense now.

Now she's talking about how the builder or plumber or building inspector left the water on and flooded the house...

the adventure begins

We left 92nd Street and headed down Dan Kelly's hill, the three of us: In Rita's Subura (with Mr. Magoo driving), are Angelina "the Navigator", and this writer, an unwitting victim (kidnapee).

Actually, I suspect this is not going to be quite the adventure everyone promises it will be. I can see Jewels laughing at this.

Driving to NJ from Guilford (spoken through clenched teeth) was a harrowing test of nerves. NOW I know why people take the train.

More reports may follow.