Rolling out to Louisville
The drive from my Old Dominion home to my old Old Kentucky home began after picking up a few things from my local Target and Home Depot. I opted to take I-81 South to I-77 North to start the journey west, instead of my usual route of U.S. 460 West into West Virginia. I didn\’t want to take my chances driving a full-size truck on a tight section of 460, as this was my first time rolling out in a big truck.
Instead, I experienced a pair of tunnels, whose walls were just as close as the rocky cliff on 460 I avoided. I also got to enjoy my new cell service provider\’s robust signal while using Android Auto all throughout the journey. The bill might be higher, but I\’d rather have that than need to rely on Entune to get me out of trouble.
At this point in time, West Virginia had issued a stay-at-home order after it became the last state in the U.S. to file its first coronavirus report. The West Virginia Turnpike looked like Sunday morning (compared to I-81, which was packed as always), whose traffic mostly consisted of big rigs hauling goods to their final destinations.
The rest stops I visited were sparsely staffed. At the first stop, I dropped in to buy something to cut my work gloves free from their security restraints; my new driving gloves were uncomfortable to wear, needed to swap them as soon as possible. Only one person was there to check me out, and most of the shops inside were closed.
The second stop was dead. The only signs of life were other travelers pulling off the road for a moment to fuel up, or to take a break before continuing on.
On my way westward into Kentucky, the sun had set, leaving one and all on I-64 in blue hour. The further west I traveled, though, the more I noticed blue hour stretching endlessly, accompanied by glimpses of the waxing crescent moon and Venus. It felt like I was driving through a place outside of time, where if I stopped, I would return to reality.
Which I did at the Pilot in Mount Sterling, Kentucky. Before the pandemic hit, filling a half-tank of the Tundra\’s 38-gallon tank would\’ve been painful on the wallet. However, fuel prices had fallen to levels not seen since that all-too brief time back in 2016. Thus, around $31 was dropped for 19 gallons of regular before heading out to Louisville.
Alas, I was too tired to make the last 25 miles to my original hotel in Louisville. Instead, I landed in Simpsonville for the night. At least I wouldn\’t be far from my first stop of the morning to come.
Getting the hook-up at U-Haul
On a warm late March morning, I rolled out across the Ohio River into Jeffersonville, Indiana to the local U-Haul, which were the only ones with a 6 x 12-foot covered trailer available to rent.
I chose the biggest trailer U-Haul had because I was expecting to haul a lot of big items to Julie and Justin\’s new house. Items like a washer, a dryer, a queen-size bed, a heavy easel, and so on. Plus, I thought it might rain while I was there.
One thing I learned about this Tundra TRD Pro was that none of the reviewers who had it before towed with it. How did I learn this fact? From the U-Haul employee who hooked up the trailer to the hitch. He told me the connectors for the trailer\’s lights had never been touched, still wearing their factory coatings.
The truck wouldn\’t be alone in this first, as I never towed anything before, either. All I needed to know was to switch the settings on Google Maps to keep me off the highway while crossing back over the Ohio to Julie and Justin\’s apartment in the Cherokee Triangle neighborhood in Louisville.