Steinbeck and the lure of the open road

[Monello]

I could write that book.

I never went anywhere growing up. My family couldn't afford a vacation. I learned about the world from geography class.

Grew up and joined the navy. I got to live my elementary school geography class lessons in real time. By the time I hung up my uniform, my country count was 45. I saw the best & the worst of the world.

I also got a terminal case of wanderlust from my military travels.

Then I got an RV. 34 foot class A beast. I had to teach myself how to safely drive that thing. After a year, I took it on a 5,400+ mile trip from Maryland to Alaska. Took 4 weeks getting there. Then rolled around the Kenai Peninsula for 2.5 months. It was the road trip of a lifetime.

After a few mini mid life crisi, I ended up full time RV living. I kept that RV for 14 years. I full timed in it about 10 of those years. I did a lot of volunteer camp hosting in various state parks. I took a few paying gigs in national parks & national forests, when all I really wanted was the free campsite.

I put 40,00 miles on that rig. I drove it in 34 different states plus a few provinces. My family thought that perhaps an intervention was in order. Because who just lives here & there without roots or a fixed address?

I was never freer than when I was living on the road. Each new destination was its' own adventure. I met amazing, like minded folks. Campground kids were always polite and respectful. The mobile RV repair dude is your best friend and savior.

I may never camp or RV again in my lifetime. But I have a lifetime of travel memories to keep me content in my senior years.

Like Andy said, "Get busy living or get busy dying". I hope those of you reading this choose get busy living.

My rig in Solomons, MD


George Washington National Forest as camp host


Camped out on Cook Inlet, Alaska

[Cida]

Originally Posted by Jezer

That's a touching account.

It reminds me of when I drove from Houston, where we were living, to New Orleans with my then young daughter. We stopped at a diner, just off the I10 inside Louisiana. The young waitress got chatting to us, fascinated by our English accents, and asked where we were going.

On telling her, there was a wistful look in her eyes, and she said that she would love to go there. Unthinkingly I pointed to the I10, and said that it's only a few hours down the road. To her it must have seemed like it was a different world.

On reflection I found the encounter quite sad.

That reminds me of another passage:

"You going in that?"
"Sure."
"Where?"
"All over."
And then I saw what I was to see so many times on the journey - a look of longing. "Lord! I wish I could go."
"Don't you like it here?"
"Sure, it's all right, but I wish I could go."
"You don't even know where I'm going."
"I don't care. I'd like to go anywhere."