[As part of Dick Bolles The Job-Hunter's Survival Guide, I have been encouraged to write seven stories about times when I really enjoyed myself, demonstrating a goal, the obstacles to it, and how I overcame them step by step. These stories will later be compiled on an inventory chart that will help me pinpoint my transferable skills. This, as you can tell, is the first.]

In January 2008, I was laid off from my sales job at a metalworking factory in Madison, Alabama. As I was living with my mother at the time, and it had taken me nearly a year to find that job to support myself, I felt like I was in quite a bind. I decided that the one thing I could do immediately to earn a living was to return to tennis officiating full time. So I contacted one of the people involved in scheduling the American pro circuit - Woodie Walker - and asked her if she had any vacancies coming up.

The first place Woodie needed help with was at a women's event in Redding, California. Now if you really want to get back to work, and get into Woodie's good graces at the same time, you say yes to anything she offers. However, accounting for the fact that I nearly never fly anywhere, I was faced with a dilemma. I needed to accept the work, but it meant expensive flying or facing an 11-state, 2600-mile one-way trip across the country for a week of work. After some mapping, some planning, and some calling of friends and family, I accepted the assignment.

The first step was getting from Huntsville to Saint Louis in one day. If I arrived soon enough, I would go up into the Arch for the first time in about 15 years, have some nice dinner and sleep in. But I wound up distracted by news of Eliot Spitzer's downfall in New York, and the statue of Superman in Metropolis, IL, and so on, so I got into Saint Louis late, ate at Qdoba, and went right to sleep at an economy hotel.

Step two appeared to be the most challenging step, on paper - an 850-mile straight shot all the way across Missouri and Kansas to Golden, Colorado, where my friend Ryan was waiting to host me for a few days. It was very long, and very boring. I think Kansans know they are boring, so they invent things to make drivers stop, like the Wizard of Oz Winery, or the largest barn in North America, and so on. This time, however, knowing what faced me and eager to get to dinner with Ryan, I was not tempted. With the help of satellite radio, I drove straight on through, arriving in Golden as twilight fell on the Rockies. Ryan and I had dinner at a Mexican restaurant, and he got quite warm from half a margarita.

I stayed in Colorado for a few days with Ryan, seeing his campus and Golden, visiting Red Rocks, and enjoying my first visit with him in several months. One of the last things I did was accompany him to his swim league practice in Denver. Afterwards, as I waiting for him to emerge from the locker rooms, I met one of his league members - who also happened to be a friend's roommate when I was at Texas A&M 13 years earlier. Small world.

At this point, my trip became much more challenging. For step three, I originally planned to take I-70 west from Denver, because I wanted to see the Eisenhower Tunnel and the beauty of Glenwood Canyon. However, I-70 was closed west of Denver because of heavy snow. This opened up an opportunity for me to knock another state of my "visited" list - Wyoming. So against what one might expect, I headed north to avoid the snow.

I drove up to Cheyenne and then west on I-80. It was cold and there was a lot of blowing snow, but no significant accumulations on the ground. I stopped briefly to film a vlog in a depression in the center of the Continental Divide; but otherwise it was straight through the Wasatch and down into Salt Lake City. I arrived in town in the afternoon, so I went downtown to take some photographs of Mormon landmarks, ate dinner, and then continued west on I-80 into the salt flats. It felt too early to stop driving, but ahead on I-80 in Nevada, there were very few towns. So as darkness fell completely in the desert, I stopped at a rest area in the middle of the salt flats and slept until a few hours before dawn.

I work up early on Saturday morning knowing that I had to cover just 600 miles that day to arrive the night before work began in Redding. However, this was going to be the most challenging part of the trip to California.

As I headed west into Nevada, the elevation increased past the border city of Wendover. It had been cold and sleeting all night, and as I left Wendover I realized that there were no places at all to stop on the winding mountain interstate until a truck stop in Wells, 60 miles west. So I made the Flying J my next goal, and left the security of Wendover for the mountains. Not far outside of town, I realized this may have been a mistake. Snow was blowing heavily from the west, and the interstate was littered with patches of black ice. At this point I found it was too late to turn back now. So I lined up behind two eighteen-wheelers, who had their hazard lights on and were traveling at 25 miles per hour. Since it would have been crazy and unsafe to try to pull off to the shoulder in the blinding snow, I stay right in line behind the truckers until we all arrived in Wells two and a half hours later, just before dawn.

At the Flying J, I decided to have breakfast and read the news on my laptop while I waited for the sun to come up and evaporate the black ice. I would up staying at the truck stop for about three and a half hours, until nine o'clock or so. I was just preparing to leave when I felt something - well, it felt like a truck had rammed into the side of the building. I asked the waitress, "What was that?" Her nonchalant reply was, "Oh, that was an earthquake. We've been having them for a couple of weeks now." Sure enough, Wells had experienced a sharp earthquake that month, seriously damaging their historic downtown, and had suffered aftershocks for weeks. I remember seeing a spot about it on CNN, but didn't make a note of the place.

Black ice, snow storm, earthquake - it was time for me to get back on the road again. The next step was to take I-80 to Reno and Sacramento, then I-5 straight north to Redding. But the snow was not done interfering with my plans. Radio reports said that I-80 was closed west of Lake Tahoe to all traffic except vehicles with snow chains. My little Civic Hybrid did not have snow chains. So before I left Wells, I called the chief in Redding and told him where I was and what my situation was, and that I would do everything I safely could to make it to work the next morning.

I finished I-80 across northern Nevada, which winds aimlessly north and south just to keep you in the state for longer, and then descended through Sparks and into Reno. Since I-80 was closed to me, my only option was to head north on US 395 and skirt the mountains to the east until I got far enough north that I could cross them at a lower elevation above Lassen Peak volcano.

This strategy worked until I approached Honey Lake and saw signs for a California inspection station and that snow chains would be required to head further north. At this point, I did not know how I would make it to Redding; I decided the best approach was to be honest and play the innocent traveler (I had Texas plates at the time). The woman at the inspection station was nice, and asked if I had and produce or fruits to declare. I was surprised at this, but said no. She asked to see in my trunk, and I was waiting for her to tell me my tires were inadequate. But she closed the trunk and ushered me on. Now, I thought, the only thing stopping me was the condition of the roads in Lassen National Forest.

From Susanville, I started climbing into the mountains again. As I reached the top of the elevation, the scenery around me was like a postcard. A narrow two-lane road with massive pine trees on either side, every limb weighed down by a smooth few inches of snow. I stopped and took a few pictures of the trees and snow and peaks. But then I realized that I still had to get down the mountain, and that night was falling. If I didn't make it off the mountain before night, the roads would re-freeze and I would be stuck up there, just a few miles from my goal. Fortunately, I focused, drove safely, and made it to the hotel in Redding as the sun was setting. Six days, 2,595 miles, and I had made it.