Today I turned 47, the same age at which Jack Kerouac, beat poet and author of, among many other things, “On the Road,” died in 1969. So it seems perfectly fitting that today Abby and I bought a piece of the road in the form of a used motor home. It is a 34-foot Fleetwood Bounder RV.
Abby drove past this beast on her way home for a couple of weeks, and suggested we go by and give it a closer look. We discovered that although its paint job had faded in the sun from being parked outdoors all of its life, the interior was in very good shape. We had our shade-tree mechanic look it over last night, and although there are a couple of squawks, he gave it the thumbs up, so we made an offer, and this morning the seller called us to say they accepted it.
Abby and I have been dreaming and fantasizing about this kind of thing since our first vacation together, though we often believed it would be out of our reach. We were quite surprised by how affordable this one was, mostly because of its age. Oddly, the owners left a whole bunch of stuff in it, like paper plates, flashlights, saucepans, even coins.
We have been talking about how we are going to use this rolling castle, and in addition to our adventures in Utah, we imagine we would take it to Abby’s family reunions in the fall, to see my sister in New Orleans, to see Abby’s kin in Ryan, and maybe on weekend excursions to places like Palo Duro Canyon in Texas.