NOTE: This topic is identical to “A Rolling Stone” from just the week before last.
When I think about giving up my roots and hitting the open road … selling it all and taking that big old gypsy wagon, er RV … down the endless highway, my whole life stuffed in it … rolling place to place, sleeping wherever we find ourselves and waking to watch the sun rise somewhere, I start making charts, budgets, schedules.
I calculate the price of gasoline. Do you know how much it costs to run an RV? It’s not how many miles to the gallon. More like how many gallons to the mile. Seriously — that’s a lot of money! And much as I love them, I don’t see us hitching up the horse. Giddyup!
And we have four dogs. And there we are, rolling down the big highway, singing joyously while watching the gas gauge drop, We suddenly realize one of more of the dogs is restless. Is he/she serious? Or just messing with our heads? Do we want to take a chance on guessing wrong? Our dogs are smart enough to think it’s a hoot to get us to stop everything so they can run around. Day or night. And their cheerful barks of bliss will, I’m sure, be the hit of the RV park.
With no doggy door, no fenced yard, it’s just us, the dogs and the leashes, moaning as the rain pelts down “Please, go, it’s late, I’m tired, I want to go to bed,” while Bonnie snickers at us as only a Scottie can.
And then there is the matter of bathrooms. My husband has a thing about the bathroom. He wants a nice, comfortable room. A spacious shower. Unlimited hot water.A friendly place, not an airline-sized nook. Room to spread out a Sunday paper. And me? While he’s doing his leisurely morning ablutions, what am I doing? Getting poison ivy while beating the bushes for a bit of privacy.
But wait. Someone has got to pump out the head, fill the water tanks. Hook up to some electricity. Buy groceries. Dog food. Cook meals in a tiny kitchen galley. I pretty much never want to cook at all, ever, even with a big fully equipped kitchen. Am I going to rediscover the joy of cooking in the galley of an RV? Not.
And WiFi? Take away my Internet connection and I will collapse in a useless heap of damp rubble. Give me a week before I start to wail “Take me home!”
I don’t think Garry would last a week. I’m tired of rolling. I want my bed and recliner. I want my modem, router and computers, my big screen television, my desk. And the fenced yard with the doggy door. The kitchen. The DVR.
The gypsy life is a great idea. You should try it. Send me postcards!