Under the Weather

It was a dark and stormy night;

The rain fell in torrents

Except at occasional intervals,
When it was checked
By a violent gust of wind
Which swept up the streets

- Edward Bulwer-Lytton Paul Clifford

Oops!

So in my last post, I had written about how much fun my new car is to drive. I had also written about how I see a lot of road fines in my future. What happened after owning my new car for only one week was far more mundane ...

It was a dark and stormy night. I have previously mentioned the weather here in Palmy ... cold, dark, windy, rainy. This night was no exception. The day started out ok ... I worked the 7a-5p shift and rushed out a little early so I could get home right away for Little H’s parent-teacher meeting. I had tried to book a late meeting, but the latest I could get was 5:30p. I collected Little H right after getting home from work and off we went. It happened to be a Thursday night, and so we had a special treat in store after our meeting. One of the local food trucks sets up in a park on Thursday nights. They serve the best burgers, and Little H and I had been planning this stop all week.

There had been a good amount of rain off and on for the past several days. It wasn’t too bad on our way into the school, and had let up walking out to the car after our meeting. During the drive over to the food truck, however, the skies opened. I was stuck on a side street trying to make a right turn across two lanes of busy traffic. There were few gaps in traffic, but when I finally spotted one, I pulled out. Visibility was bad ... really bad ... and I was looking straight in the direction of oncoming traffic, but through the rain and headlights somehow never saw the car coming from my right until it was too late. Fortunately, because of the rain, I had pulled out slowly. I suspect the other car was likely traveling at something less than full speed. Their front left smashed into my right front. No one was hurt, and after exchanging info, they were able to drive away. My steering rods were broken and the car was pouring out oil. I was barely able to pull the car to the side of the road; after which it was undriveable. How ironic that I joked about how many speeding fines I was in for and my accident was at less than 10 kph.

Not such a scary corner ... under clear skies, in broad daylight, and with no traffic.

I just sat there. I couldn’t believe it. I have been driving for 31 years, and I have never been in a significant car accident. I didn't know what to do. I saw a woman get out of the passenger side of the other car, and seeing that she was all right, told her that I would pull my car out of traffic. She was quite shaken up but was walking and talking just fine. After pulling my car over, I walked to the other vehicle. The driver had gotten out and also appeared well. He climbed back into his car and also moved off to the side. We then set about exchanging information. As I mentioned, I have never been in an auto accident before, so I wasn’t sure how to proceed. We exchanged personal information and I asked if we needed to call the police. The woman and bystanders assured me that we had 24 hours to file a police report. I have since gone through the rules and laws and found this to be correct. In instances where people are injured, police must be called immediately, otherwise the report can be filed later.

The next thing I did was to call a tow truck. Again, not sure what to do, I just looked one up online and called. They stated they were on the way. What I probably should have done before calling the tow truck was to call my insurance company, which is what I did next. My admittedly limited previous experience with these kinds of incidences is what led to my next series of mistakes. First off, I did gather the other person’s personal information, but neglected to get their car registration number (license plate number) or insurance info. When my insurance claim agent asked for this info, I did not have it (I did get it from the other person later). Second ... only afterward did I realize that I was getting all of the information from the woman passenger and none of the info from the driver. I quite honestly don’t even know his name. Thirdly, I had said “I’m sorry” and “It was totally my fault” on several occasions. Apparently, this is the exact wrong thing to do.

In determining who’s insurance company will foot the bill (and who’s insurance premium will subsequently take a big hike), who is at fault becomes quite important. Everything that I read online about dealing with an auto accident in NZ said to never accept blame. Simply gather all the information and submit it to the police and insurance companies. Leave it to them to assign blame. Partial fault can be assigned across two or more parties, but by saying “it was totally my fault” I may have inadvertently shouldered all of the blame ... and all of the cost. The night was dark, and raining heavily. Was the other car traveling too fast for conditions? Possibly, but I had just said “it was my fault”. Being even more naive, when the woman asked me to write down my description of the event, in essence I said that I caused it. Not a lot of wiggle room there. Was I mostly at fault? I would say so. Was I completely at fault? Again, I think so, but possibly not and I have not left much room for arguing that point.

When I talk to people about driving in NZ, they always ask about learning to drive on the “opposite” side of the road. I never really had much of a problem with it. That being said, I always thought that if I were in an accident, it would be because I was looking left when I should have been looking right. This time, I was actually looking right, directly at any oncoming traffic. Through the heavy rain and refracted lights, I just didn’t see that other car until it was too late. In the end, a car is just a thing that is fixable or replaceable. Most importantly, we are all fine. Still, I have been having trouble sleeping at night.

We never did get those burgers ...

Howdy, Partner!

What do I do when my love is away?

Does it worry you to be alone?

How do I feel by the end of the day?

Are you sad because you’re on your own?

No, I get by with a little help from my friends.

- Lennon/McCartney With a Little Help from My Friends

Hey, baby ... what’s your name?

Kari arrives to New Zealand in just a few days, and while I have really enjoyed the past three weeks of me and Little H against the world, I am eager for her to get here. Be it a spouse, a lover, a boyfriend or girlfriend, opposite gender or same gender, in New Zealand that person is referred to as your “partner”. During our last tour of duty here, I initially thought “partner” was a very odd word for this person in your life, but I came to embrace it. In the US and Canada, we give so much weight to the title “husband” or “wife” and anything else is somehow seen as ... well, less. The deep commitment and importance of other arrangements are inherently excluded when we hold the terms husband, wife, and spouse to a different standard. A partner can be any of these, but they are also so much more. Kari is not just a person to whom I am married; in every sense of the word, she is my partner ... and sometimes my partner in crime.

I must admit, though, that it can make for some interesting cross-cultural miscommunication when a Kiwi is referring to their domestic partner and a North American thinks they are talking about a business partner (and vice versa)!

Chumba-wamba

I have gone out and done something without my partner in crime, though. Sadly, the Highsteads have parted ways with our dear companion Chumba-wamba. I bought Chumba for a little over $2000, put another $1300 into new tyres, and got exactly what I paid for. Like an old and faithful dog, Chumba was a little beat up on the outside, smelled really bad on the inside, but was always there ready for the next adventure. In the year that we were away, Chumba lived a solitary life in a good friend’s barn, occasionally let out to drive around the paddock, then put away again. On my return, Chumba surprisingly started right back up and even passed a Warrant Of Fitness evaluation (miracles never cease). But with our now permanent residency in New Zealand, we needed a more reliable ride. Kari and I have always driven big pickups and SUVs. When we moved to Myrtle Beach, though, Kari’s Forerunner had passed it’s useful life. We got her a (slightly) used BMW 528i and proceeded to drive it into the ground. She was never really happy with that car, but I rejoiced in driving it. In the mean time, I got a Ram 1500 that I absolutely loved. When we were deciding what we wanted to drive in NZ, Kari announced that she wanted another SUV ... and that opened the door for me to get a completely impractical sports car.

The Ultimate Driving Experience

Enter the Highstead’s new whip (I am accepting suggestions for a name). It’s a stripped down 2011 BMW 335i ... whoever ordered it chucked all the options except the performance M package. No heated or electric seats, no iDrive, no tilting mirrors, no Bluetooth, no valet lock-out features, and no frills. There are only two pretty much useless cup holders, no USB ports, and none of the comforts we were used to in the 528i. What it does have is a sport-tuned engine and suspension, snug seats with side bolsters, a thicker/tighter steering wheel, and an automatic transmission. What? Who the hell strips a car down, goes for the straight hard-core driving experience, and gets an automatic transmission?

Driving it home from Welly the other day put the fear of God in me ... this car is fast, powerful, and way fun to drive. The Ultimate Driving Experience? Yep, I think so. It has a 3.0L turbocharged inline 6 cylinder engine that generates 300 hp and 300 lb-ft of torque. It’s been lowered and sits on 20in tyres. I am most impressed by how it leaps from 100 to 135 with just a twitch on the gas pedal. It is way more car than I have ever owned and I see a lot of driving fines in my future ... all with a shit-eating grin on my face.

Lasagna

   

Teriyaki Chicken ... & ... Scotch Filet

Slow-cooked Texas-style Brisket

Growing up, I came to appreciate finer foods. My grandmother used to say that I had champagne tastes and a beer pocketbook. Once I moved out on my own, a beer pocket book was barely an aspiration. I quickly learned that if I wanted to eat well on my budget, I would need to learn to cook. By the time Kari and I met, I was an accomplished and creative presence in the kitchen and I would argue that my skills rivaled Kari’s (she might not agree, but this is my blog, so ...); however, Kari definitely had a broader repertoire than I did. At first, we combined to make quite a team, but Kari enjoys cooking more than I do, and she gradually took over kitchen duties. I was slowly demoted from my role as Executive Chef, to Sous Chef, and eventually demoted further to Chef de Partie. Now, I am barely even a Kitchen Porter. At this point, Little H and I have been on our own for nearly a month, and wanting to make sure she is well-fed and properly nourished, I have had to revise my role. I think we have done pretty well, and when asked, Little H agrees.

Since arriving in New Zealand, I have had to arrange utilities for our home, set up television and internet service, and get our cell phones sorted out. I got Little H registered and started at school, went to the college (high school) open house, and registered her for next year. I have organized a wood delivery to keep us warm at night and tried to fill in what was missing from our “fully furnished” rental. Little H joined a local football (soccer) club and was invited to play for the regional team. My partner has been stuck in the U.S. organizing our move, while I have been navigating our new country and new culture as a single dad ... a role made especially difficult by a schedule in which I sometimes work late into the night. We have been fortunate that many of our friends in New Zealand have taken pity on us, fed us, and taken care of Little H on short notice. I have had to rely on friends to take in Little H ... feed her, challenge her, entertain her, and shuttle her off to football practice and games. It truly takes a village to raise a child, and I am incredibly grateful to the village around me. The past three weeks would not have been possible without a little help from our friends.

Thanks to all of you collectively and to each of you individually.

Zoom, zoom ...

Forever Home

Hold on to me as we go

As we roll down

This unfamiliar road

And although this wave

Is stringing us along

Just know you’re not alone

‘Cause I’m gonna’ make this place

Your home

- Phillip Phillips Home

We are back in The Land Of the Long White Cloud, and it took longer than we had hoped. We left NZ in Sept 2017 with the intent to return as soon as possible. Our goal was to have our house on the market by February 2018 and be back in NZ by mid-April. To be honest, we thought that goal was a little too ambitious, but we fully expected to be here by June. Now, two months over-schedule and over budget, and nearly a year after we first left, we’re back. So many things conspired to delay us; most significantly was our immigration application. If you have never tried to immigrate to another country, and you believe what you hear on American television, you might think it’s pretty easy. Far from it. Our application for immigration, with supporting documents, ran to 217 individual pages and cost us almost $10K. Leaving one country for another is never easy (Link: Run For the Border).

And while I say “We are back ...”, we are only partially back. I let my previous ED group know that I would work my last shift for them in mid-July and told the group in NZ that I would be ready to start work on 6 August. Packing up and moving a 3400 sqft (315 sq m) house is a 3 day event. The plan was to have the movers pack and load only a few days after my last shift, and for the three of us to fly out on 21 or 22 July. The movers couldn’t quite meet our timeline, so Little H and I drove to Houston, sold my car, and boarded a flight on 28 July, landing in New Zealand on 30 July (you lose a day crossing the International Date Line). Kari was left behind to jettison the last bits of detritus we had accumulated, deal with any problems that cropped up, and organize the move. She will arrive in NZ nearly a month after we did.

Over the 13 years we have been together, Kari and I have moved around quite a bit. We met, got married, and had a baby in Galveston TX. From there, we spent two years in the suburbs of Washington DC before heading off for three years of training in Iowa City. I learned to be an Emergency Medicine Physician and Kari learned to be a Nurse Practitioner. We left Iowa City to start our first professional jobs (well, not really ... Kari was a nurse for many years before becoming a NP). We left Iowa for Myrtle Beach, SC and to say that we were disappointed with where we landed is an understatement. If not for a fantastic group of friends and neighbors, and an amazing group of doctors (Palmetto Emergency Physicians) who took me in, we would have left SC five years ago.

On my last foray up to Canada to play golf with my brothers before permanently relocating to the other side of the globe, I had to clear U.S. customs and immigration in the Toronto airport. When the U.S. ICE officer asked me what I do, I replied “I’m an Emergency Medicine Physician.” He looked at me and said, “That’s quite a title.” I don’t really think so, but I’m glad I didn’t use my New Zealand title ... Emergency Medicine Consultant Specialist.

Taking a chance, moving away from friends, family, and everything we have always known is hard, but not as hard as I expected. Maybe that’s because we are running to something, not away. We are running toward a better future, a better life, and a better environment in which Little H can grow and explore. We probably could have found what we were looking for somewhere in the U.S., but we think we found it here. We return not as visitors, but as permanent residents, and hopefully, someday, citizens. This is the place in which we hope to grow old together. Don’t hold your breath, though; moss doesn’t seem to settle well on our feet ...


Y’all come back now, ya’ hear ...