When we test drove the "Cruiser" in January of this year I distinctly remember the uncomfortable feeling of looking into the rear view mirror mounted on the windshield and not being able to see what was behind me. I thought to myself as I looked into the mirror and saw the reflection of the RV kitchen, "Why did they bother putting this mirror in here. I can't see anything." As Becky, the salesman and I drove up and down I-75, I continually looked in that mirror, each time seeing the same thing and each time wishing I could see the road behind me. I have since learned to use the side mirrors much more effectively. I've also discovered that the mirror on the middle of the windshield is my favorite one to use. Now, when I look in that mirror, I see that Abby is working on her math homework, or Carter is just about to fall asleep, and most enjoyable of all, is watching the two of them giggle when Carter says "Poop."
I know that by the time the trip is over, I'm going to have to adjust the mirror to see the top of Carter's head, and that the little girl that we left with will be more grown up. I'm sure that some of my favorite memories from our time on the road will be framed by that mirror.
So I'm glad they decided to leave that mirror hanging there, although I'm not sure it will be there when the next guy drives the Cruiser.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
New Places, Great Old Friends
We've had the chance to see so many amazing sights in the few months we've been on the road and met a lot of great people. We have also made a real effort to stay connected to the family and friends we left back home. Sharing our experience through our photos, blog, facebook, twitter and email has been enjoyable too. However, it's hard to beat having someone show us Chicago's best pizza or talking baseball with a friend at the Louisville Slugger Museum. In the past few weeks we have made rendezvous with relatives and friends at a few of our stops, and we have plans for more such meetings. It brings an entirely new dimension to our journey and a welcome addition to our daily routine.
At our stationary home, we loved to host parties, round tables, gatherings and dinners. It was one of the things we've missed the most while on the road. Though the venue for those meetings is much smaller, it is still very exciting for us to host visitors.
The other aspect of these on the road connections that is not lost on us, is the effort and sacrifice these people have decided to make to visit us. Not everyone has 12 months of vacation time, and for someone to carve out some of their free time and spend it with us, we understand the value of that and appreciate it.
Experiencing this country with our children was our intention from the start, but having our family and friends experience parts of our journey with us is an added bonus we hadn't counted on.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Strange
It's taken quite a while, up until the last week or so, but I have finally stopped comparing life in our house to life on the road. I'm more used to the way the plumbing works in our RV than I am in our house. I'm sure by the time we get home it will take a few days before I stop looking for a dump station, or forget about filling up with water.
The differences are many and they are also great.
Obviously there is a huge difference in space. I can sit at the table in the RV and reach just about anything in the kitchen. That is convenient and confining at the same time. In Abby's bed you had better not jump up, because the ceiling is only two feet from the mattress. Showers are short or you run out of water, and the bathroom isn't exactly cavernous. You give up the space inside, because you gain so much outside.
When we hit one hundred days on the road, it meant that in total, we had spent 104 days living in the RV. Our pre-trip test run was a short one. Even though it answered a lot of questions for us about whether we could handle it, it was too short to answer everything.
Can I say that the tight space never gets to me? No. Can I say that it is completely worth the sacrifice in square footage? Yes.
The thing about this trip that will be the hardest to adjust to when we return home, will be waking up to the same scenery everyday. Granted many of the days we wake up there is nothing to see but pavement and parked cars, but I know that I'm just a few miles away from something I've never seen before.
I've become enamored with being a stranger. I enjoy not being a local. Sometimes the only difference between something exotic and something mundane is familiarity. Right now, in this moment of my life I'm enjoying the unfamiliar, the foreign and the strange. The World's Largest Ball of Twine comes to mind.
For the people of Darwin the ball is no longer the show, it's the parade of goofs like me that drag their families there to see it. They don't sit at Jack Tavern, across the street from the Twine Ball Inn, and talk about the ball. They talk about the guy in the Ohio State hat driving a campa pullin a campa that made his disinterested kids stand in front of the ball too long and take pictures. It's the foreign or strange that attracts your attention.
The differences are many and they are also great.
Obviously there is a huge difference in space. I can sit at the table in the RV and reach just about anything in the kitchen. That is convenient and confining at the same time. In Abby's bed you had better not jump up, because the ceiling is only two feet from the mattress. Showers are short or you run out of water, and the bathroom isn't exactly cavernous. You give up the space inside, because you gain so much outside.
When we hit one hundred days on the road, it meant that in total, we had spent 104 days living in the RV. Our pre-trip test run was a short one. Even though it answered a lot of questions for us about whether we could handle it, it was too short to answer everything.
Can I say that the tight space never gets to me? No. Can I say that it is completely worth the sacrifice in square footage? Yes.
The thing about this trip that will be the hardest to adjust to when we return home, will be waking up to the same scenery everyday. Granted many of the days we wake up there is nothing to see but pavement and parked cars, but I know that I'm just a few miles away from something I've never seen before.
I've become enamored with being a stranger. I enjoy not being a local. Sometimes the only difference between something exotic and something mundane is familiarity. Right now, in this moment of my life I'm enjoying the unfamiliar, the foreign and the strange. The World's Largest Ball of Twine comes to mind.
For the people of Darwin the ball is no longer the show, it's the parade of goofs like me that drag their families there to see it. They don't sit at Jack Tavern, across the street from the Twine Ball Inn, and talk about the ball. They talk about the guy in the Ohio State hat driving a campa pullin a campa that made his disinterested kids stand in front of the ball too long and take pictures. It's the foreign or strange that attracts your attention.
So now that I'm used to living in a smaller space and spending more time looking out a windshield than at a TV screen, it might be difficult to go back. Then again, maybe after 48 states my wanderlust will be satisfied. When the trip ends, I can bring back all the foreign things to my familiar space.
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