Pap's Road Readiness Kit
This envelope and pouch got me to NYC.
"Are there tolls on the roads?" he asked.
"For some of them," I said, "out in Jersey. I usually take 80."
"Well, there's some quarters in there if you need 'em" he said.
With that he handed me a little old change purse heavy with coin and an envelope of crisp bills. My name was coarsely scrawled across the top. Pap's penmanship has suffered old age.
He'd asked if I was taking any sandwiches or cans of soda, if I needed any - these were our staples (Sprite in that can, always) when we'd go out working for the old ladies in the summertime. Maybe I could buy a whole pizza in the morning and eat it along the way, he suggested. After the dazzling shock of Pap even using the word "pizza" faded, I told him I had enough to get there, I had snacks, and I'd canned some chili to get me through the first week when I arrive. "I'll be fine," I said.
He also gave me a dented, rusty flat shovel and a worn window brush for the uHaul. The shovel was for digging myself out of the snow, though none was predicted for the drive. I tossed them in the truck anyway. Where am I going to put a shovel in an New York City apartment?
The envelope and pouch allowed my to break even on travel costs.
I feel like I'm leaving my grandparents and my life behind.