We made it. We drove the first leg to Atlanta on Saturday, which was quite straightforward and uneventful. Oh, except for the part where Adam tried to kill us. We were in the middle lane, and a tractor-trailer was next to us in the right lane. The right lane was ending, which I picked up on, but Adam didn't. I told Adam that the truck needed to come over, so Adam started speeding up and looking into the lefthand lane for an opening to merge over. The truck chose that same moment to speed up and come over in front of us. Except, he wasn't exactly in front of us. I started screaming bloody murder, which shocked Adam into yanking his foot off the pedal. I still don't know how that truck missed us. Our hood was literally under the back left corner of the truck. We rode in silence for quite a while after that one.
Funny thing is, that near miss really helped me. Up until that point, I kept having these awful thoughts that we were going to die on the way to Houston. On every bridge, I waited in tense anticipation for Adam to lose control of the car, so we could skid off the side of the bridge cartoon-like to a certain watery death. You know, like when the car is actually suspended in mid-air for a full second before dropping straight down... just a cloud of dust floating where the car once was. But, after that near-accident, I felt so comforted. If we were meant to die and leave the children parentless, it would have happened then. And it didn't. I think God knew I needed some help, so he sent an entourage of guardian drivers to give me strength. Seriously. We have rented a Chevy HHR for the trip, and I'm telling you, we have seen hundrends of them all along the way. I seriously doubt this car is the most popular car ever sold in the U.S. At least once every half-hour one would pass us. At every single gas station, fast-food restaurant and rest stop, there would be one somewhere in the parking lot. I imagined each one was like a heavenly secret-service agent protecting us on our trip. It was awesome!
Final note... I really wish someone would have told me that we would have to cross about 10,000 bridges and fly-overs between Atlanta and Houston. I hate bridges. Hate hate hate hate hate hate bridges. They absolutely terrify me. Especially in the dark. One of the worst moments was on the bridge over Lake Charles. There was contruction going on, bollards everywhere, lanes ending, cars swerving in and out. I have never been so petrified in all my life. We pulled over after we had gotten past all the madness and could hardly speak. Awful awful awful. Where the heck our God-sent HHR chaperone was I don't know. It looks like we have no choice but to send for the children and relocate permanently to Houston. I'm not sure we will emotionally survive the drive back.