Carny Caravan

One benefit of being a nomad is the sense of belonging nowhere, while belonging everywhere. Wherever I stop for the night, I'm home. I can befriend my neighbors immediately based on who is parked next to me in the Walmart lot or the RV park. We wave, say hello, comment on the weather, then remain apart. I don't have to deal with any racism, sexism or homophobia they may harbor. I'm like the beloved visiting relative who receives all the benefits of family with none of the responsibilities. But sometimes we do get closer. While preparing for hurricane Irma's visit, I approached a neighbor who was using some flexible cover to tape over his window. As a new nomad, I hoped to learn from a more seasoned traveller who seemed to have a plan. We started talking about the storm, and he mentioned god in relation to Irma. Without thinking twice, I said 'well, if I believed in god, I'd have to have a serious talk with him about all this crazy weather and how it is really

So, as you may have guessed already, I am not just wandering the desert in my skivvies. A change in lifestyle requires a change in the tools of life. Here's what I've done in my quest to be on the road. I purchased a used 20' long travel trailer. I had thought about getting a class C RV with the bed over the cab of the RV, but a friend pointed out that should anything go wrong with the engine, I would be without a home until it was repaired. Also, when I arrived some place that I wanted to stay a while, I would be unable to leave my home plugged in and set up... every time I went to the store or wherever, I'd have to bring the whole shebang with me...or tow a car. Now it seemed a bit overkill to have two engines that might break down, so I decided the old ways were the best and got a used 2007 Keystone Springdale 179RD... Great layout and well kept up. I then needed a truck to to it since my old Dodge Caravan did not have the towing power. So... that was the initial

Driving at night is its own magical experience, especially when driving through the country…it is so dark, it feels like you are on a narrow strip of highway surrounded by a vast universe of possibility. Since I am heading east, I was literally driving into the night, losing time as I moved backwards through space. My clock kept resetting itself, making it seem as though I had been driving longer than I had. Driving through the South in America always freaks me out a bit. My first disjointing experience is usually the radio dial. The section reserved for NPR in my usual world, in Texas and other rural southern places becomes a hotbed of Christian radio, augmented by the constant reaffirming billboards: “When you die, you will meet God.” “Jesus is the only way to God.” “Yahweh. God’s real name.” It is very disorienting and distressing to be around such confidence in statements unsupported by any objective evidence, not to mention the sense of having a monopoly on truth…as thoug

The time is approaching. I've taken the book shelves and the coffee table to Kristy's house, and I've reclaimed my face painting gear from her storage shed. I've schlepped bags of clothing and a few household goods to Goodwill. If I haven't worn it in the last year, I won't. I've discarded old letters and faded photos (after taking a digital of the photos). Why do we feel compelled to carry around boxes of memories? Just a few more items to review, then my goods are ready to be rehoused in my new turtle shell, my mini home, my travel trailer: Big Top. Yesterday I took my truck, Carny, in for an inspection before hitting the road, only to be told I need new shocks and struts. Of course. Life rarely flows smoothly from the starting line to the finish. That's why we keep repositioning both lines​, hoping for a happy ending. I contacted the dealer who sold me the vehicle and certified that they had checked everything prior to sale, to see if they can give

I have a condition. It may be serious or not; I'm not sure. I have itchy feet.  The call of the wild. Wanderlust. Peregrination. The wayward wind. Divagation. Itinerancy. Apodemialgia, which is the opposite of nostalgia. Not a desire to return to some wonderful past, but the urge to escape from wherever one is right now. The need to move, to be going somewhere. Anywhere. To have transient leanings. Vagabond blood. A nomadic gypsy soul. Or maybe it’s just the feeling of not really belonging anywhere. In my search to discover where I would be living for the next chunk of my life, I came up empty handed. It wasn’t for lack of lovely places or nice people… it is some unfulfilled place in my heart. And we all know that home is where the heart is. And my heart is on the move... My life is a movie. So I bought a travel trailer, which are so named to distinguish them from the giant behemoths meant to be mounted on a permanent footing inside a trailer park designed to look