I was discussing my trip the other morning at breakfast, a friend from Germany said that it cost only about US$500 to have his Rolls Royce shipped to Germany. Forget the US! I’m renaming my blog “To Europe in Camper with Dog” and hitting the old world. (Editor’s Note: I’ve not really participated in Twitter before I started this iLiveInMyVan thing; @toeuropewithkids was one of my first followers whom I didn’t know in Real Life and that this attractive woman with great stories about travellng in Europe was following me was rather exciting; sadly, my crush on her is mitigated by her happy marriage.) And, rather than taking a hiatus from camper life for a couple weeks visiting family in Ecuador the first couple weeks in June, I’m going to drive there. As a friend pointed out, if Che Guevara could do it on a Norton in 1948, I should be able to do it in the luxury of a camper.
Well, maybe not. There’s lots to be seen here in the U.S. And, truth be known, I’ve never really fancied myself a traveler. (Though now that I think about it, I think have had my passport stamped at least once a year since moving to Knoxville.) Twice in my life I’ve been in relationships with women who really liked travel. Me, I would generally have been content to just stay at home. The woman I was married to was really good at finding cool stuff to do. When we lived in Vermont, for example, we went to this really amazing open house at a sheep farm in early spring. It was riotous fun to see those little lambs running about. They would do cute stuff like climb on top of their mamas to get a better look around. The lamb sausage was tasty too. With her, I pretty much went along with her plans, and, for the most part, that worked well. She found cool things to do, and I didn’t have to. Left to my own devices, I’d probably have stayed home and fussed with computers or watched TV. I went on a couple of Big Trips with the other traveling woman. Though I would have been similarly happy to see the sights that she wanted to see, she was mortally frustrated that I would not participate in the trip planning in her way. It seemed to me that the suggestions that I did have were dismissed (“Oh, I’ve been there, it’s really not very good,” “That’s a touristy part of town, not a really good place to eat,” “You want to go there? I’m not spending my time at such a place, but you go on. I’ll meet up with you later). Of course, those trips were relatively short, and it made sense to make sure that all of our time was used to its fullest. It was understandable that she would not be interested in the sewer tour, pencil factory, or whatever it was.
Now it’s just me, with no reason to hurry or be concerned with using my time “well.” I’m looking forward to flitting about, mostly without destination. I’ll probably miss a lot of sheep farms, but my <a href=”/a-window-into-my-future”>tacos in the cemetery day</a> was pretty darn fine. And if I see a pencil factory, I’m stopping.
If this camper life is still attractive after I’ve seen some more of the Lower 48, and Thor’s gone to another plane, maybe I’ll just see about finding a boat that will take me and Walden to another continent. Or maybe I’ll get a job.