72 miles a day. Almost 400 miles a week. Close to 20,000 miles a year.

Gebelein and her family moved to Huntersville last summer from Baltimore. In the old neighborhood, they could walk to school, the grocery store, church -- even her husband's favorite Chinese restaurant.

Now school -- a private school in Charlotte -- is 30 minutes away. The grocery store, at least five. The church where she plays the piano is about 10 miles up the road.

But Gebelein couldn't be happier. Driving all day is a sacrifice she's more than willing to make. In exchange, she gets the lifestyle so many new suburbanites seek.

``When we moved here, we wanted a safe, small-town type of environment. We wanted a neighborhood where the kids could play outside without us worrying. We wanted a pool nearby.

``We wanted a back yard and trees and room for the dog to run around. We wanted a place where we could be religious without the kids getting embarrassed.''

They found Cedarfield, a massive subdivision on the outskirts of Huntersville, about five miles from Exit 25. When Wayne, Gebelein's husband, got his transfer order last summer, they spent several weekends driving across the Charlotte region.

South Charlotte was too crowded, Matthews too far out. But they fell in love with Cedarfield, a hidden collection of more than 800 homes and 3,000 people -- a community bigger than the entire town of Huntersville was in 1990.

The first few times she drove home at the end of a busy day, Gebelein drove around and around the maze of interconnecting streets and suburban mini-mansions that, in the early evening darkness, cast ominous shadows over the well-kept yards.

Lost? Nope, just taking it all in.

Gebelein and her husband both grew up in Baltimore. Both consider themselves experienced city dwellers whose cultural and social beliefs come from growing up along the Mason-Dixon line.

Today, they sigh wistfully and give each other sad, sympathetic looks when they talk about the musky taste of a well-cooked crab.

``Now we've traded crabs for grits.'' Gebelein grimaces. ``I don't think that's fair at all.''

Finding friends has been difficult. Like Gebelein, neighboring mothers are either at work or on the road most of the day. Moving vans have cost her other potential confidants.

``I'm almost afraid to get close to anybody for fear they'll pack up and go at any minute. I'd just started to get to know one of my neighbors when her husband got a transfer, and poof -- she was gone.''

Everything else about her new home, she loves.

Here, she can talk about her family's commitment to the Lutheran church, and their strong faith in Christianity, without worrying about offending anyone. She can let Michael, a fifth-grader, ride his bike around the neighborhood without fear. She can knock on any neighbor's door and be sure to find someone, well, like her.

They're getting more of a sense of community with every passing day, and with every new rezoning sign that goes up along Gilead Road, the winding country road that leads to Interstate 77.

``I don't think any of us moved out here to live in the city. If I had my way we'd have a mall nearby. But that would be it, no more development.''

Last summer, as they began boxing up the family dishes and the toys and the dog's bowl, Gebelein and her husband tried to explain to Michael and Rachel why they had to move.

Daddy's work is in Charlotte, they said. Mommy is sick of cold weather.

But the reason they picked Huntersville was one Michael and Rachel can't understand, at least not yet. Gebelein wanted to raise her children outside the city, in an environment that felt smaller, cleaner, safer.

She moved here, like so many of her neighbors, for the kids.

Tomorrow: The teen-ager
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