My realilty and ideals rarely match up and the search for a nomadic home has not been any different.
We’ve been dreaming about this trip for a few years. In my head, I’ve always seen us rolling down the highway kicking up dust in an old restored bus conversion or even an Airstream. The sun is setting and golden rays reflect off the worn aluminum. Brent drives along wearing a cardigan with wooden buttons while Bon Iver or Nick Drake plays. My perfectly cherry red pedicured feet rest on the dashboard. The boys hang out together discussing whether they want to read or play Scrabble.
Brent is not a big fan of cardigans. My polish is always chipped. And the boys torment the cat.
Brent’s response when we looked at a 1953 vintage bus conversion? “You don’t have to work on it.”
We’ve been looking at RVs for a few months now. This was one of the first we saw and she charmed me.
I saw character. I saw myself in vintage aprons. I saw potential.
Brent saw old. Brent saw me with PMS and no privacy. Brent saw work.
He’s probably right but take a look at this pad.
Only Front “door” knob
Groovy orange chairs
Built in magazine rack
Swanky built-in toaster
I’d love to replace “PRIVATE COACH” with “NEWSCHOOL NOMAD”
Not sure about the toilet flush button. Seems like trouble.
All of this for $6000.
However, at that price the toilet may be the least of our troubles.
More than likely we’ll end up with something newer, more reliable, more spacious, and, to some a little, “obnoxious”. Despite my imagination, we are not posing for an Anthropolgie catalogue. We are going to be living life with two young boys, two pugs, and a cat. Living life means Brent is going to be working. The boys are going to be schooling and playing. I’m going to be blogging, cleaning, and cooking sometimes with PMS so
a new fangled slide out or two extra room might be nice.
Still a girl can dream.
And the search continues.