Waking up on our final day where we literally countdown to the flight later. To make sure we aren’t at the airport too early, I’ve plotted out what can only be described as a highway adjacent, small town, antiquing adventure. The packing of the suitcases was all but done and dusted last night as we’d promised our host we would be out a little earlier to accomodate a request she’d made to us with no expectations we’d say yes. She’d been so kind to let us in earlier, so it would be rude not to agree a 45min earlier checkout.

We’d timed our day out perfectly, Google Maps preloaded, alarms set for 7.30am, feeling very smug about our organisation. Or so we thought. At 8.30am my eyes finally open, and through the blur of sleep I look at my watch, give Matthew a gentle shove and say, “Babe… it’s 8.30.”

His reaction is instant. He launches out of bed like he’s been fired from a cannon and immediately starts stripping the sheets while I’m still lying there, half‑asleep, wondering what on earth is happening. It’s honestly the fastest I’ve ever seen him move without the promise of goats.

Even at 8.30 we’ve still got a 45‑minute buffer, and honestly, after six moves and repacks on this trip, we could probably moonlight as a professional relocation team. With a luxurious five minutes to spare, we hit the road in search of antique‑mall treasure, preferably the kind that fits in a suitcase and screams “Disney adult but make it classy.”

We stop at IHOP for breakfast, and the moment the warm syrup hits the table I’m grinning. It takes me straight back to the 80s, when tiny‑me sat in an IHOP eating pancakes for dinner and thinking it was the most magical rule‑breaking moment ever. Turns out that joy still shows up at 9am, bringing the same grin and tiny giggle that 80s‑me thought was peak happiness.

Because we’ve decided to take our way off the major highways, the picturesque drive takes us past long horn cow and horse ranches, through smaller towns which apparently need about 5-6 fireworks warehouses in each and strange intersections that we’re still not sure we’ve navigated correctly (we adopted the smile and wave tactic we used in Louisiana and worked fine).

My research unveiled a plethora of antique malls, but I’ve selected just a few. As we have till 10pm to be ready to board, we can still take our time. Each stop produced what we have come to expect in places like this – friendly people, cool stuff to look at and yet another room around each corner.

Then we walk into Happy Cabbage, a place a shopkeeper had recommended earlier, and it delivers the kind of magical moment you simply can’t plan for. The store is already a treasure trove of Disney antiques and collectibles, but then we hear a piano playing. At first we assume it’s coming from the speakers, until we turn a corner and see the owner himself, gently tinkling the ivories.

The tone is so beautiful it stops us in our tracks. He drifts through different genres, and then suddenly he’s playing A Whole New World from Aladdin. As I’m handing over my credit card, he shifts into Somewhere Over the Rainbow, and the bill instantly feels a whole lot softer. Matthew and I end up slow‑dancing for a moment right there in the store, completely swept up in the magic of it all.

We farewell the town of Gladewater -the Antique Capital of East Texas – and point ourselves toward the final stretch back to the airport, with plans for a lunch stop and one last wander through a Walmart. With a food chain tucked inside every store, we know we can kill two birds with one stone.

We end up ordering a Subway‑style lunch from a chicken joint (name still unknown), and as we sit down, we realise Matthew’s football team, Leeds United, is playing on the TV. He quickly clocks that the match is live, and there’s this little spring in his voice… right up until he notices it’s already half‑time. Still, the scoreline has him buzzing. I also can’t work out in place that is serving mostly chicken subs why there is a cow on the wall. Just another fun and quirky story to add to our list of USA-isms.

Before we really hit the highways and byways around Dallas, the final stretch gifts us one last dose of reassurance and laughter. We pass a church with a small sign out front, the kind clearly designed to be both cool and comforting, and it reads: “DON’T GIVE UP. EVEN MOSES WAS A BASKET CASE.” It’s exactly the kind of unexpected roadside humour that lands at the perfect moment, and we’re still laughing as we drive on.

As the roads get busier and wider, we know we’re getting close to the airport. We’ve killed enough time, but still have an ample amount before our flight — about six hours, if we’re being honest about what “ample” really means. We drop off the car, take the shuttle to the terminal, check in and settle. Thank goodness for lounge membership at this point. We shower, we eat, we drink, we recharge, I blog.

This quiet, non‑chaotic moment gives me the space to reflect on the last two weeks. So here are the stats:

• Drove 1429 miles (2300 kms) since we landed 2 weeks ago
• Stayed in 6 towns and 1 city
• Filled 1 whole suitcase with Disney collectables
• Met dozens of locals
• Ending with 2 very happy humans

What a privilege it is to share these memories each day with you, but the true joy is my travel companion, part‑time comedian and partner in crime, Matthew. This trip simply wouldn’t have been possible without his willingness to drive, his calm on the road, and his ability to say “Yes, Quincess” every time I came up with a new plan. He makes the world feel lighter, safer, funnier. Travelling with him is the greatest gift.

It has been an absolute BLAST.

And with that… the blogging is over. We’ll board soon, and our holiday is officially complete. Thank you for coming along for the ride. I hope my natterings have been exactly what you hoped for. For me, I’m so glad I took the time each day to capture the memory‑making, so future‑me can return to these moments and feel the joy all over again.

This is where the story ends, but the feeling stays. I’m so grateful for every mile, every moment, and especially for Matthew – the calm to my chaos, the laughter in the quiet, the reason these trips feel like home. Thank you for joining us. Until the next journey.