Into the Wild--the Prequel

I don’t know where the crazy idea came from. Anyone who knows me will tell you my idea of “camping” was the Holiday Inn, so my family was completely nonplussed when I said we should buy a motor home for our retirement. Previously, I didn’t even like to picnic, but suddenly, I was gung-ho on living outside. Perhaps it was the onset of dementia or some mental disease, but I told my husband I wanted to go to Arizona for a couple months each year to escape the cold of Indiana, and from there the odyssey began.


Winters are brutal in Indiana. We are not only the crossroads of the United States for travelers, but we are also the dump station for all the western storms that curl up around the jet stream and camp out (pardon the pun) over Indiana, dumping all the snow and ice that have accumulated in the clouds as they raced across Texas, Oklahoma, Missouri, and Illinois. These are called Panhandle Hooks, and they can be wicked. Then there are the other storms that sweep out of Canada and descend on us north to south also bringing winds and bitter cold. For these reasons, I think the state will do better without me during this turbulent time, but not permanently. There are five really good reasons, Shannon, Nick, McKenna, Bryn, and Eiryn. Shannon and Nick are our children, and McKenna, Bryn, and Eiryn are Shannon’s children. Since I am the mother of Shannon and Nick, it is my job to give them advice—even when they don’t ask for it. Why else do we have children? As for the granddaughters, they cannot grow up normally without the wisdom of their grandmother and the positive influence of their grandfather, so I figured if I could go to Arizona after Bryn’s birthday in early January and return before Shannon’s in late April, I would be satisfied. Then Eiryn was born this year later in January. Dilemma. But I’ll deal with the dates later.

I think the idea formed in my head when our daughter and her husband bought a small pop up camper for weekend expeditions into nature. Despite my reticence about being that up close and personal with bugs, smells, and things that go bump in the night, I sort of enjoyed a trip to visit them camping. It brought out the Henry David Thoreau in me, and I saw myself standing at the edge of Walden Pond spouting aphorisms to the night. It was heavenly. I could do this I told myself. No more snow. No more ice. No more numbing winds that seem to sail right through me. I must go to some place warm and see what life there has to offer (Thanks, Henry).

So here we are on the periphery of a great unknown. My husband and I will take off dragging Big Blue (my name for the beautiful fifth wheel which is actually white with blue and red stripes)—completely outfitted with two flat screen TVs, king sized bed, and fireplace--behind us Thursday of this week. We won’t be going to Arizona for our maiden voyage because we haven’t retired yet, but spring break will never be the same. I’m still excited even though we’ve spent a ton of money outfitting this behemoth, but I’m ready to sleep on sheets that I’m sure are clean and cover my body with blankets without stains that show up only under a black light. So I’ll live with the bugs; sleep with the sounds of crickets, and become a pioneer of the open road.

10-4 Good Buddy! See you at the next mile marker!