I feel like I’ve done a lot of moving over the last decade, both for myself and for others. And for all the hauling, the loading, the packing, etc., I’ve found myself coming to one conclusion:

I will never rent U-Haul again for myself, and I refuse to help anyone move (no matter how much I like them) who rents one of those ghastly orange trucks.

A three-part series in the LA Times on the myriad of problems at U-Haul triggered terrible memories of my own. Busted engine hoses in the middle of an urban interstate, hours-long fights with customer service, dry transmission fluid tanks, burnt out gears, top heavy trucks, no support, etc…it’s long since over. I helped move my best friend three times via U-Haul, and three times we came back with a scary story to tell.

This time, at least I know he’s using Budget.

I knew they taped these things in advance, but wow!

Bushes Enjoy Ford’s Theatre Holiday Gala

“It might have been 80 degrees outside but it was snowing inside Ford’s Theatre on Sunday, where President Bush attended a taping of an ABC holiday program.

The Ford’s Theatre gala usually airs July Fourth, but ABC will televise this event in December in an effort to attract broader viewership.”

As everyone knows, I’ve got a longstanding tie to the Charlotte area.  I’ve seen the changes almost firsthand – life in the region is a LOT different since 1980.  One of my stronger memories is eating at the 21 Drive In on Independence…back when it was a four lane road.  I was fortunate enough to live close to Briar Creek during my last time there, so my wife and I were able to enjoy the good old days.   Even though times have changed and Independence is basically a freeway out of town, the 21 still lives.

The same cannot be said for it’s cousin on South Blvd., the South 21 Drive In.  An article in todays Observer notes that the construction of the light rail corridor has been a big blow due to the realignment and division of South.  The access to the drive-in from the southbound traffic out of Uptown has been effectively cut off by the new median.  Other factors are cited as well, including increased competition from area restaurants and a general lack of interest from the younger crowd towards drive-in restaurants.  (No word of the Independence 21 having similar problems despite being cut off from eastbound Independence, or the general success of the Sonic chain.)  Negotiations are ongoing to keep the place open, but the final outcome is in doubt and doesn’t sound promising.

I’m not the kind of person that pines to keep an under-performing business rolling just for the sake of history or a historical preservation zealot, but part of me will be sad if the South 21 closes and the 21 in Independence meets the same fate.   Granted, I don’t think I’ve ever eaten at the South 21, but it still calls to my younger days growing up when drive-ins still existed but were on the wane.  It’s all about those childhood memories that we don’t want to die.  When we lived off Independence we took Garrett to the 21, although he probably doesn’t remember it.  He has also been to the Sonic in Mooresville, where he thought the concept was neat.  In a similar mindset we’ve taken him to the drive-in movies on multiple occasions so he can have the same kind of experiences.  (Daddy also likes the one-car-one-price method that doesn’t exist here locally anymore, and the fact that $20 buys a TON more snacks at the grocery store than it does at the concession stand.)  I wonder if these same things will be around in five or ten years when he’s older.

June 7th, eh? Time flies when you’re having fun….or whatever it is that I was doing. Kidding. Last week was pretty well lost to business travel, as North Carolina was my base of operations last week. Not as a reflection on the town, but that trip sucked. Storms messed with travel schedules and individual projects (not to mention the associated teammates) made my working hours a living hell.

It’s always nice to catch up face to face with friendly teammates, friendly teammates I used to work with, and old friends. Heck, I never know when I’m going to run into them. One guy I first knew outside my company works in a totally different area, but I still ran into him in the cafeteria last Thursday. Five hours later, I’m at Concord Mills and run into him again. There are other former teammates I stay in touch with at least weekly, and there are those who travel regularly through my area – got to make cursory plans to meet their family for dinner if the timing works right. Whenever I’m down I stay with one of my best friends still in the area (since the other one had to up and move out of the country ) so it’s always a treat to stay there. Got himself a new place, a bit farther out from town but one that suits his purposes.

The weather didn’t cooperate so we didn’t get to take in any summer activities, but there’s always room for good food. Taking advantage of the “thank-you” gift provision for hosting me, we checked out the new Del Friscos steakhouse. Very good food, though not quite as good as the Dallas version. (Side note – working for my company has allowed me to eat at two of their seven establishments. I’m a fan.) Until last Wednesday, though, I’ve never seen (or heard of) a waiter using a crumb scraper at the table to clear away the bread crumbs from our dough. And being North Carolina, it’s all about the barbecue. Even if we did end up in South Carolina at our favorite joint.

That opens up a story in and of itself, where I get my first extended interaction with the TSA. I just said that we went to our favorite barbecue joint and they sell bottles of their sauce. I had already decided to bring back several bottles since, in West Virginia, good barbecue is almost non-existent outside of our kitchen. And becoming a veteran air traveler leads me to note there’s no way in hell that I’m getting four bottles of sauce into one quart bag, much less a three ounce bottle. So I’m checking my bags, which have been neatly packed with the four bottles in a row and padded by my dirty clothes. Also alongside are the various wires to connect the gadgets I travel with, including my GPS/PDA mount and phone chargers. Looking back, it probably wasn’t a good idea to put the wires beside the bottle – mainly because it likely looked like some kind of bomb in the checked luggage x-ray machines. I figured this out from the different positions on my zippers, the mussed up clothes, and the official TSA flier stuck on top letting me know I was the lucky recipient of a random search. Hope that Jamaican rum doesn’t land me in jail in a few weeks.

Not sue why, but life hasn’t slowed down in the few days I’ve been back. Yeah, there’s catch-up time with family, but the mad rush of work hasn’t died down. I’m only able to get this up thanks to a listen-only call that I’m using as a forced break from projects. Otherwise, I’d probably toss my laptop through the back door.

So in essence, there really hasn’t been much of a catch-up.

Ah, the curse of the “expert”. The tekkie who gets asked free advice on fixing a computer, the lawyer who gets asked a “simple question,” the doctor asked about “this bump” and other persons knowledgeable in their field. This is your column. I fall into the computer crowd myself, and I completely relate.