When this idea was first floated, I wasn’t too excited about it. It’s a long drive and I generally don’t like driving. I mean, I’ll fly from Fresno to Los Angeles because I don’t want to sit in a car for 4 hours (not to mention, the plane has bar service and that kind of thing is generally frowned upon while driving), so the thought of driving 12 hours a day through bear-infested wilderness was not at all appealing.

Then my wife suggested that I go with my son, who’s currently living in Denver and doesn’t mind driving at all. Seriously, I think he was born in a car. He’s driven solo from California to Portland and Seattle to Denver in a tiny Chevy Sonic and now he’s a Lyft driver.

When I asked him if he would be up for a 3,000 mile road trip from Alaska through Canada and down to California, I was secretly hoping he would say no, and then my wife would put her foot down and not let me drive it alone, and I’d be safe. It was a crazy idea, but it’s just not realistic. Phew, thank goodness. Does anyone have any better ideas on how to move two flightless dogs 3,000 miles?

But of course, he was super-excited about it and couldn’t wait to go. Having already spent a dark and cold winter in Alaska, he was interested to see it during the summer, and had always fancied driving the Alaska Highway, so this was a perfect opportunity to cross something off his bucket list.

So the plan so far is for Melissa (my step-daughter) to clear out as much of the house as possible and sell anything that isn’t bolted down. Then Scott (my son) and I fly into Anchorage, load up the Bronco with the dogs and whatever else is needed, but can’t for whatever reason be flown back, and then we hit the road, while Melissa flies back with the baby.

At this point, I can’t decide if what I’m feeling is excitement or existential dread about the whole thing.