"It’s late on a cold February afternoon, and I’m sitting behind the wheel of a U-Haul truck, watching Sacramento disappear in the rearview mirror—its skyline shrinking down to a dot as I press the accelerator. The truck is packed to capacity: I’m moving to New York City for a new job, a new life.
A new life suddenly mired in complication. Sitting next to me, across the truck’s bench seat, is my boyfriend. I’ve only known him for two weeks, actually, but he’s helpfully offered to join me on the cross-country trek.
As we drive, I’m trying not to focus on the outcome. It’s difficult not to though, as I glance sidelong at this near-stranger playing deejay with a handful of mixtapes made for us by friends.
Know this: It’s almost impossible to hold back tears when you hear Tom Petty’s “California” played through crappy, tinny boom-box speakers as you leave everything behind while seated next to a guy you barely know. A guy, who as fate would have it, possesses the rare ability to make you laugh at just about anything, including yourself."