Ode to Team Impala

Seven years ago today, I was in Texas with two business associates, Kate and Shelly, for a quick one-night business trip. We were attending an early morning school meeting to discuss a grant when our security department placed an urgent call to my Texan colleague and asked him to return immediately to our nearby work campus. From there, we were glued to the TV screens in horror as the Trade Center buildings went from smoldering to crumbling.

To be away from home when it felt like the world was collapsing was unsettling. Knowing my friend Theresa was at the embassy in Egypt trying to flee the Middle East because of violence to US citizens was terrifying. Waiting to hear from my friend Miriam, a teacher at the U.N. School just blocks from the Trade Center, was torturous. Seeing the images of so many people missing and killed in the plane crashes and towers was heart wrenching.

We waited for two days, hoping (and yet, also not) that planes would fly once again. Finally, we decided that our rental car, a sturdy Chevy Impala, was going to be our best mode of transportation back to the Golden State. After a quick stop at Old Navy for comfortable travel clothes and another at AAA for maps, we were off. "Team Impala" was our moniker for the dusty drive through more ghost towns than an old Western flick. Across the landscape, flags were flying in the most unlikely places. In a time when people felt vulnerable, God Bless America was akin to saying, "good morning." And the skies were void. No planes, no noise, no activity, aside from the occasional flock of birds. It was a surreal road trip.

After three days, we made it to the long driveway at Kate's house, so glad to be back on familiar turf. And there was her mom, at the end of the driveway, like a pillar. She had left the office early to await our arrival. She embraced us, hugged us, welcomed us home. Kate's husband made "Team Impala" t-shirts to mark the journey. A business trip with a most unexpected detour.

Even in the midst of such despair, goodness reigned. The three-day journey across Route 66 cemented my friendship with pals Kate and Shelly, who prior to that trip were simply business associates. So, today I send hugs to Team Impala on the anniversary of our friendship. A positive marker on a day that is a most sorrowful anniversary in all other ways.