At six p.m. Saturday night, I flew from Raleigh to Chicago then took a bus to Georke's Corners (Waukesha, Wisconsin). At Six a.m. Sunday morning, I and a friend drove back to Raleigh, NC in a 26-foot rented diesel-guzzling truck full of household possessions of mostly emotional value that my parental in-laws were giving away to their eight kids, including my wife, because the in-laws are now living in an assisted living facility and the old homestead is sold. 959 uneventful miles later, we arrived on my street and turned into my driveway at 2:01 a.m. After 19 long and noisy hours of driving, I got stuck at the bottom of the driveway. It's now 3:43 a.m., and we've just dislodged the beast. The Monday morning wake-up call. Listen to your inner voice. Three hundred miles from home I said to my friend, "You know this truck is going to get stuck in my driveway because of the small dip. The loading ramp will get hung up." After 300 miles of listening to him, "No way," "Can't happen," "Trust me," we were stuck, because I didn't listen to what I knew was true. Don't make my mistake and get your protag stuck at the bottom of the story's driveway because, you didn't listen to your inner voice about what makes sense. See you in the afternoon. I'm tired.