So to get my car to our new home, I had to drive myself and my kiddies about 750 kms (about 500 miles) -- and 300 kms of that was across a dirt road. I've been in 2 roll-overs on dirt roads (I wasn't driving in either) and the mere thought had my stomach doing its' own little roll-overs.
But I DID IT!
I put Roald Dahl on the CD player, and we listened to Georges' Marvellous Medicine, and The Witches, and we drove into BeachTown in gorgeous late afternoon sunshine.
I am very proud of myself. I know it's hardly like discovering the cure for cancer, or winning a gold medal, but I conquered a real fear, and that deserves a little pat on the back, doncha think?