Montreal 1st Leg: Roseville to Phoenix

Official time out: 7:30am PST, only 30 minutes later than planned. Good thing we woke up two hours early. About a 13-hour drive.

It almost fit. We’re leaving (besides what’s already in storage) four small boxes and two folding tables. If we weren’t taking an extra bass guitar and a microwave for friends we’re staying with in Phoenix, it would have fit. If I had it to do over again, I’d do it over again. Friends mean more than stuff.

The two bits that hurt are leaving my early 70s Ludwig snare drum, and all the DVDs. I’ll survive until December, when they’ll fit.

Amazing thing is, we called it, spot on. If we hadn’t chosen to deliver some stuff for beloved friends, we would have exactly perfectly fit everything we wanted to bring along into the van.

For totally winging it, not even having a dry run to pack, stuffing it all in for the first time on the morning we leave our old life for the new, well, it’s simply amazing.

Nomads wing it. That’s us; winged nomads.


  1. hey, there is always room for the instruments. You can never have enough. Good luck, look forward to reading about your adventures.

  2. I’m thinking about this … everything fitting so perfectly. Realizing that my overnight trip is requiring 3 pairs of footwear – and that’s only because of the promise of fine weather. Otherwise, I’d need to bring boots, too. And a rain jacket and an umbrella. Without shampoo – my friend assures me there’s plenty at her vacation home – I still have my overnight case stuffed (I need my favourite pillow after all!) And, I have a shoulder bag with my laptop, book, brush and passport – among other things.

    How would I survive?

    And, then, I had an epiphany. You can use it if you like.

    I would only stay at places where there was someone my size. Or I would diet or eat in order to make it work out if someone particularly generous needed my services. Why?

    Because then I could wear their clothes. Carefully. They’d never know. I’d wash or dry-clean before I left. In some instances, I might even be able to do some trades. So dress size or shoe size would be on my questionnaire before I accepted a house-sitting position!

  3. If I were not so, well, goofy about it, that’s a great (or perhaps psychotic) idea.

    I can’t even borrow a shirt from someone. A jacket, maybe. But shoes? I really did just shudder when I wrote that.

    I’m adding questions about their personal library and music collections, though. Y’all passed that with flying colors, by the way. I just can’t be lugging 300 books around, so it was nice that you owned the next volume on my reading list when we arrived.

    I can’t recommend gaining weight in order to house-sit for someone more robust than yourself. Perhaps some judicious belts, sashes, and other gathering devices to make a sort of flowing desert garment out of something a few sizes too large?

  4. Dave, I really can’t whine too much. I fit the Strat, my bass, my mandolin, a steel-string acoustic and a nylon-string acoustic, my keyboard and stand, the PA and three monitors, plus my acoustic/electric bass for the friend I’m staying with today.

    So, like, leaving the snare wasn’t really something I should whine about. I will anyway but you shouldn’t encourage me.

    Maybe I’ll find a winery that needs you to come play, eh?

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