Six wheels
I strongly suspect that the interior of this RV mimics the interior of my mind — cluttered, wiser, prioritized. A desperate desire to confirm the suspicion goes unfulfilled.
Four of the six wheels were for sale on Craigslist a while ago and, despite its age and mileage, the price was higher than I could consider. At one time, I could have paid cash and shown up at home, proudly displaying the purchase to my wife and neighbors, likely to their chagrin. At the time, I was a burning man who would have loved to have driven to Burning Man and lived for a week in the suffocating hotbox. Romance drives whatever.
Too, the Rocky mountains would have beckoned, as they still do. In particular, though stunningly impractical and silly, the possibility of camping along a small mountain road in the Alps or the Pyrenees, for four days, waiting for the peleton to whiz by in three seconds, sometime in July, is the most romantic idea I have. Romance drives whatever.
Today, however, as a middle-aged man, I see the probability for breakdowns, with the associated expenses. Blown gaskets, blown tires, blown axles, blown anything. Left on the side of the road, never having lived in the hotbox or near the peak of Alpe d’Huez, questions of fear and practicality now come to the forefront.
Planning for the ride
To stay clean and organized make sense. Embracing simplicity keeps the mind clear. To face fear with courage and tempered expectations, and a plan to get to where I want to go before moving to the next place, knowing that breakdowns will occur despite my best efforts, might just get me to the next place -- in this place.
Oh yeah, the motorcycle on the back of the RV? If I had it, I’d maintain it.
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