Eric arrived right around 06h00, and we said our final goodbyes to my mom and to Terena, and away we went.
|Yeah, so you can be early but not bright, or bright but not early. Which one is this?|
I had to fill the thirsty old Fleetwood up with fuel. I had also forgotten something, don’t forget what, but Eric went back for it while I fuelled up. He had the faster, more modern machine, after all.
|Fuelling up at Flying J just outside the Perimeter|
Then, off to the USA. Don’t look back, that’s a trail of sobs and tears on the highway…
Getting into the USA was uneventful. I went through first, and had to formally import the Fleetwood. Eric was sure we’d get put into the “you sit here while we empty and search the car” garage, but we didn’t. He and I dutifully allowed the customs and immigrations officers to do their work.
It was good we were there again, because the officer on 30 June when I “imported” the 2005 de Ville said that he didn’t have to sign the import form, which seemed wrong. Sure enough, it was wrong. This fellow was a good guy, but he wanted to inspect the car, look for the emissions certificate, find the country of origin of the car (yikes, all mainstream Cadillacs are built in Lansing, MI, USA). It was all good, so he signed off, and we were on our way.
I had purchased a pair of long range FRS radio transceivers for Eric and I to use on the trip, and a pair of car chargers. We chatted on and off on the way. Kind of fun, although someone said that it wasn’t really a father-son trip because we weren’t in the same car.
We stopped in Grand Forks, which was fine. It was too early to eat, but with my small middle aged bladder… enough said. Then by Fargo, we were hungry, so we stopped for a bite, and it was time to fuel up. [ cue ominous music again ]