I have no shame in admitting that I steal some of my best ideas and tips from other bloggers. It’s how I began shaping this dream back in 2010, when I first found “Jennifer-Living-in-my-Car’s” blog, as well as To Simplify Glenn back in his “Falcon Days.” They were like “pushers” in the schoolyard, teasing out something in me that I always knew was there…the gypsy element. Continue reading
The intention on arriving at the Hole in the Wall Campground in Mojave Preserve was that we would spend a night or two while scouting around for a suitable boondocking spot to finish out the remainder of the Spring Break week/Easter weekend. However, we are unable to find a signal on our nearby scouting attempts, driving down dusty roads in Jim and Gayle’s Subaru while monitoring our respective devices, me with a Verizon Mifi in one hand and an AT&T iphone in the other, both which indicate “No Service.” Continue reading
Having moved from the thriving energy of Manhattan to “Fatlanta” in the “aughts decade,” I was pretty miserable. I had not yet established any relationships in Atlanta, and missed my lifestyle back in New York so badly it hurt. I was now owned by a 3 bedroom beige ranch-style home, and confined to house arrest by an imprisoning job. I would sit at my desk with the only 3 x 3 window in the room at my back, and stare at travel pictures on my “Wall of Inspiration.” Continue reading
It’s no secret that the trifecta of monochromatic monotony; first Quartzsite, then Yuma, then Anza Borrego all did a number on my mood this winter. I just couldn’t seem to overcome the austere bleakness of my surroundings on the heels of what was a difficult holiday season. So the prospect of heading back into a place called the “Mojave Desert” seemed a bit daunting. But Jim and Gayle were headed there to wait out the spring break and Easter holiday crowds, which seemed like a good idea after yielding to a human train of hikers coming down Ryan Mountain in Joshua Tree. Continue reading
The downside of staying in Slab City longer than I planned is that I am now approaching Joshua Tree National Park during the Perfect Storm; Spring Break, Easter Weekend, and the annual blooming of the Joshua Trees. But I don’t want to delay. I was headed to Joshua Tree last spring when I learned of my brother’s demise, and had to abort the plan driving the 1,367 miles home to Texas. So it’s still a National Park not yet crossed off the Bucket List. Crowds or not, I must go! Continue reading
I recently passed a significant milestone in my nomadic life, my three year anniversary of becoming a full timer. I figure if I account for time away such as trips back to Texas to be with family, river trips, vacations to Mexico, etc. that should put me right around a thousand days on the road. It seems like just yesterday that I broke the news to my Mom that I was selling my house and going to live full time in an RV. Her exact words were, “You can’t be serious!” Continue reading
Alternative lifestyles have always intrigued me. One of my earliest vacation memories was begging my parents to take me to the Haight-Ashbury district in San Francisco to see the hippies when I was a mere twelve years old. And yes, I went with flowers in my hair. I was fascinated by their free thinking take on life, and wanted to be just like them. If only I had been of driving age in 1969 for the gathering on Yasgur’s farm, Woodstock, there would have been no stopping me.
As one who chose the more boring, conventional corporate path in life, any type of anti-establishment lifestyles, Continue reading
I knew returning from Baja would be like flying at 100 mph and slamming into a tree. Even though I could see it coming, there was no way to prepare but to brace for impact. I’ve had a bad case of the “Baja Blahs.”
For three days, I’ve been sitting in the Viejas Casino parking lot. I managed to move a whole 18 miles from Margie’s driveway, which was as far as I could muster. Sitting here like a wounded bird lying on the pavement, unable to move my wings, Continue reading
My long time friend Margie (not to be confused with “Marcia” in the last post) lives in El Cajon, just outside of San Diego. I have known her for 24 years. Back in 1993 when I decided to change everything about my life, get myself out of a bad marriage, sell my house and car, and transfer from Texas to Manhattan for a new job, Margie was my first New York friend. I had accepted a transfer as National Account Manager for American Express. My client would be the United Nations, and I would have an office on the 19th floor of the Secretariat Building. A big leap for a farm girl from Texas. Continue reading
While I was in San Diego, I decided to call on a “friend of a friend.” My best sailing pal Nancy back in New York has a friend, Marcia, who lives full time on a 38 ft. Hunter in the marina on Harbor Island. I have long had a dream to live aboard a sailboat. In fact, were it not for my poor chart navigation skills, it might have been a sailboat rather than an RV… Continue reading