When I bought the Old Girl, what was it? Almost 10 years ago? there was no cognizance regarding a recreational vehicle as a central fixture of my Master Plan. It was a whim. I was fat. Crossed my mind an RV would be a nice toy. I bought one. Every thing happens for a reason. I knew that then. I BELIEVE in it now.
Most folks are going to tell you an RV is a nice place to visit but they ain’t wanting to live there. Rightly so. A recreational vehicle is a foreign neighborhood, it is frail, ungainly , apt to catch afire or get turned downside up in a bad wind. Not much to recommend it really when you come right down to brass tacks.
Folks that full time in a recreational vehicle are a tough and willful bunch because you see those folks building RVs up in Indiana had no intention from the get go of some fool buying one to live in alla the time. Hell fire, they even spell it out for those of us that ain’t all that bright. Says right there in the warranty on most of ’em that this RV is not intended for full time use and that will blow your warranty right out the window if you even try that nonsense. Now why would they say something as silly as all that? Well sir, I reckon it is because they build ’em ’bout as strong as one of those backyard sheds you can be getting at Home Depot. Sometimes it crosses my mind that if I was to remove this one bolt or take a saw and just cut right there that this NO Princess Palace might just fold up like one of those pop-up picture books when you close the cover. You ever seen a picture of an RV that was in a bad crash? They fold up quicker than a Wal-Mart tent. Yep, it is just about that tenuous.
When it all boils down, mainly what you got is a cracker box on wheels with all sorts of exotic and strange systems to accomplish what is covered with no mind in a regular house. In the normal world: You flip a switch, lights. You turn on the TV, 900 channels. You fire up the computer, internet. Getting a little stuffy in here Huckleberry? Go turn that box on the wall down a skoosh for cold air. Flush the toilet, Adios! …..and so on and so forth.
Are you thinking right about now that I am settin’ the stage to pack it in and go live in a regular house somewhere? Umm no, not so much. Actually; not even! I have been working out the details of my NOMAD concept for more than a few years now. I have grown accustomed to no mortgage and no HOA all up in my business. I have replaced and fixed enough of all the silly shit that makes an RV work to not be intimidated by the details. My commute to make a daily dollar has been measured in feet for years now; I like that- alot. My house is on wheels and I am not afraid to use that feature. I like the idea that the Postman don’t know exactly where I am, amongst other factors.
I have been at the Secret Hideout for 137 days now. Think of it as my thesis to get my advanced degree in All Things Nomad. No electricity. Monthly trips to the Big Town for goods at best. You take what you got and make do. That is what it takes to graduate to the next level. The plan is still to head back to the Puckerbrush in about a week but the reason for leaving is not because the Secret Hideout Test has been a failure. Far from it! It has been an affirmation that all those hard places I have been in the last 6-8 years and all the tribulations weathered and behind me now have all been well worth it. It has been a learning adventure and I am not quit with it yet – not by a long shot. The last 4.5 months pointed out some flaws in my Nomad Thinking and exposed some equipment as lacking. I have to go back down South Texas way to replenish the bank account and do some more prepping for the future. Think back– I went 30 days easy peasy with just what I packed in here to start with – nada mas.
There are times I miss my buddies Dave and Fatboy Scott. Today seems to be one of ’em. You can be the grisliest hermit that ever eschewed polite society, country clubs and car pools and there are just those days when you want to reach out and touch a brother. Dave was the Nomad of Note in my life and
probably most assuredly deserves the credit for puttin’ me on this road. It wasn’t so much that he taught me how to do specific stuff – he taught me how to wrap my brain around this thing called Life that just twists you up in untenable knots if you let it. Would that I could talk to him as I sail off into Phase II. Fatboy Scott was always the life of the party whilst I cowered in the dark corner. Even so, he coveted my NOMAD ways and out and out irascibility. He talked often about just chuckin’ it all and steppin’ off into the Abyss with a general “F*CK IT!!!” throwed over his shoulder for them that still had an eye on him as he lit out of Dodge. I think he woulda done it too. But he died; just like Dave.
Ideas for blog entries come up in curious fashion and this is one of ’em. I have been fighting this water leak on the Palace for well over the month now. Firstly, I figured it was the roof and then maybe a tank and them maybe a pinched pipe and all the while I was just acussin’ RVs in general and everything that makes them a piss poor choice for livin’ in. I was making up the bed in the snout of the Palace this week. The way it is laid out, my head on the pillow is right against the front wall. I noticed a blister in the vinyl wall cover about the size of a quarter and then another one; and a third. I pricked the blister to satisfy my precocious nature. I was thinkin’ it could be from this furnace heat on the wall making it bubble up or it could be somethin’ else entirely.
It run water.
Well now, you don’t get a water blister 3 foot up a wall from a water source below the blister. Newton said it was against the Law and I believe this. So just stands to reason my water leak is from above and chances are I have already took care of the problem. I got an appointment with the top of the roof here in a little bit just to make double sure. In the meantime, I have been dredging all the soaked insulation out from the underbelly and cipherin’ how best to fix up that little deal once it dries out.
Stay tuned. I got some more livin’ to do yet.
End Note: All I Have is Today by Robert Earl Keen from the Farm Fresh Onions cd. Texas songster laureate. Nobody else comes close.