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Distance is intrinsic to Canadian and U.S. travel. When you meet anyone from Britain or most of Europe, they speak of traveling in terms of kilometers or miles. In North America, we speak of travel in terms of minutes, hours, and days.

I have moved across the country twice. The first time was in the early eighties to obtain a position with a school board in Alberta. The second time was to move my family back to the Toronto Area from Oregon where my wife had obtained a position working in a university library. Of the two, the second trip was the most dramatic. I made it alone. I made it in December. I went over the Continental Divide in a U-Haul truck pulling our second hand van behind it.

Although my wife had lived the vast majority of her life in Ontario, she had been born in New York State. This meant that we, as a family, could get green cards to live and work in the U.S. For us, this was an attempt to hold our failing family together. We were looking for a new start.

My oldest boy, who was about 7 at the time, drove from Edmonton Alberta to Salem Oregon, with me. This was a big mistake for, although I loved him dearly, a 7 year old found the vast amount of time in the rental truck tedious. The rental vehicle lost a tire on the way down and we had to spend a day waiting for the repair: more tedium for the little boy.

We arrived in Salem on July 4th and luckily the folks at the university were on the look out for us. To try and find accommodation on July 4 would have been difficult otherwise. They put us up. I began to search and found a place to live. I met the plane with my wife daughter and youngest boy. We began our life in the U.S.

After about three weeks, I had a phone call from my wife at work. She and her boss weren’t working out. We were going to have to move. She came home and we had a long discussion. It was late July. I wanted to move immediately. “No” she said. She wanted to stay until December for the sake of her resume.

I decided to sell everything we could and to try and fly back. “No” said my wife. It would be too expensive to replace everything. The net result? - I would drive a U-Haul back with our belongings in it. I’d also drag the vehicle we had purchased behind it.

That December, courtesy of my mother, my wife and children flew to Toronto, Ontario and I started down the long highway home.

When I got to the top of the Rocky Mountains, you really couldn’t see what part of the way was road - or where it ended in cliff. I stopped for gas and had a small conversation with the man who filled up the truck.

“Heading back East, huh?” he said.

“Yup,” I replied, “My family’s there.”

“Yeah. I tried that once.”

“Oh? How’d it go?”

He looked at me ruefully. “This is as far as I got.”

I was to come to understand his feelings well.

As the hours became days, my nerves and concentration deteriorated. The truck handled poorly and the road seemed endless. I got to the point where I couldn’t sleep well on motel beds. The people in the towns where I stopped looked at me as though I had dropped in on a UFO. I was isolated, frightened, tired, and heartsick.

Somewhere outside of Chicago, on the last leg of the drive, it began to snow. The truck I was in began to fishtail on the icy roads. There were large 18 wheelers behind me. Suddenly the U-Haul and the van I was towing, went into a skid. We were straddling most of the lanes of the Interstate Highway. I thought I was dead.

Somehow, the drives stopped their rigs. They came out, helped me get off of the road and arranged for towing facilities. I had to stay in a Ramada Inn but a couple of days later, I was on my way. I’m still in awe of what those men managed to do for me and how gracious they were. [If any of you are reading this... thanks and God Bless You!]

Eventually, I went across the Peace Bridge and stopped in Welland to say “Hi” to my mother. She and my kids had been worried about me. When I told my friends the entire story in detail, they laughed and said I should make a movie out of it. A day or two later, I drove on up to Toronto.

What did I learn form all of this? What can I share with you, the incipient long distance mover? Here are my findings:

a) If possible, spend the money to go ahead and scout out the new location first. It’s far better to arrive at a destination with a place to stay and some idea of how things are laid out in a new place than to arrive cold.

b) If at all possible, don’t make the move yourself. It is advisable to either sell everything and work at re-establishing yourself in the new local or to hire a moving company. It is much, much easier to fly to your location or at least have someone else do the driving than to do it yourself and arrive bone weary at your new destination.

c) If you must use a rental truck or other equipment, try to arrange for another adult to go with you and share the driving - and the unloading.

d) Don’t trust the rental vehicle. After I got back to Ontario, a relative looked at the U-Haul’s tires and pointed out they were almost bald! The thought that a company my put my life at risk never came into my mind but, since local operators have considerable latitude, maintenance may be questionable.

e) Don’t undertake a large task like a major move to solve an emotional problem in your life. Being miserable where you can talk to people you know is infinitely better than trying to work through problems in the midst of strangers.

f) Remember that you are not just leaving a place behind - you are also leaving all of your social contacts and activities. Be prepared for weeks or months of doing far less than you did in the town where you came from.

g) Above everything else, prepare yourself for the stress of entering a new area and new community. Somethings that you hold very dear will be inconsequential to your new friends and somethings you think of as meaningless will be deadly serious to them.

h) Finally, if at all possible, have lots and lots of money. It won’t buy you happiness but it will smooth out the transition…