What We Learned During Our Tenth Month On The Road


Today marks ten months since we locked the door to our house in Florida and set off for a year-long adventure in an RV. Here’s what we learned during the past month:

When someone is trolling along the beach using a metal detector, all the RVers camping beachside lose their ever-lovin’ minds trying to figure out which alarm is going off in their rig, and shout, “What’s that beeping? I’ve never heard that beeping before!”

Oh, wait. No. Maybe that was only us.

“All hat and no cattle.” It’s a saying in Texas, and if it’s directed at you, it’s not a compliment. We don’t have the hats and would be gored to death in the first ten minutes if we tried to have the cattle, and when that became obvious, Texas stepped up.  We continue to be amazed by the incredible kindness we’ve been shown, and we think we now understand what “Don’t Mess With Texas” is all about. Mess with one, you’re messin’ with ‘em all, and if one of them takes you into their fold, they’ve all got your back.

We now know how to diaper a dog in under 10 seconds. She now knows how to stand still for 10 seconds. And we shout and cheer about how beautiful she looks when she plays “dress up.” So far, she’s buyin’ it and is happy to wear her “fancy nappy.”

When you smash a mosquito on the inside of your windshield, don’t use hand sanitizer to wipe away its bloody carcass. You’ll only make it worse.

If you do use hand sanitizer and make it worse, tell yourself and everyone else you meant to create that big, nasty smear so you can revel continuously in the glory of your victory.

Louisiana! Home of the best crawfish, shrimp, and gumbo in the world! Big, steaming pots filled with boiling goodness all over the place! Happy families gathered on the front lawn around a table covered in a mountain of orangey-pink “mud bugs,” enjoying a gorgeous Sunday feast! But not for you. Because all of the restaurants are closed on Sunday, so you’re having a McDonald’s Kids Meal. At least you get a prize.

Covid sucks. I (Susan) am tempted to say it sucks more when you’re in a 36-foot space, but really, it sucks no matter where you are. That big pack of N95 masks we brought with us? Thank God for foresight, because they’re keeping Simon safer, and we’re grateful for that.

The end of Month Ten means there are just two more months left of your trip, and you have now entered some sort of freakish time warp in which days only last, like, 45 minutes, because surely we just posted our What We Learned During Our Ninth Month On The Road blog a week or so ago. What the actual hell…?

What We Learned During Our Seventh Month On The Road


Today marks seven months since we locked the door to our house in Florida and set off for a year-long adventure in an RV. Here’s what we learned during the past month:

Time spent in the bathroom is sacred time, at home or in an RV. But if you’re really just sitting there playing Wordscape on the phone for forty minutes, you deserve the scorn you get when you’re found out.

Simon now knows the bathroom isn’t the right place to play Wordscape.

Get an electric skillet with a cover, and get it before you even set off on your trip. What strange and wonderful wizardry that allows you make an entire meal in one appliance! Gone are your days of flipping one burger or one pancake in the Instant Pot set to Saute. Life has meaning again!

You’ll never run out of conversation when you travel. The only time we’re quiet when we’re touring is when we’re burned out from so much talking. Some of the most compelling conversations we’ve had have come from seeing places – usually very small towns or areas where housing is spread far apart – that make us feel our privilege in ways we never did before. Not financial privilege, specifically, but the privilege of opportunity. And we wonder, are the people happy and content? Do they love their freedom and their solitude? Is this their desired life? Or has opportunity been denied to them? We come at it with our life-experience bias, and talk our way around to wider possibilities.

Visiting the desert during dry season is disorienting, and it’s hard to get used to seeing rivers and creeks with no water in them. As Mark Twain said, “Until I came to New Mexico I never realized how much beauty water adds to a river.”

Remember back in the early months, when you struggled to keep the fridge cold? Yeah, well, it’s winter now, and your fridge has become a freezer.

Literally (and we do mean literally) every restaurant in Hatch, New Mexico closes at 3 p.m. Plan accordingly or you’ll be eating “Mexican food” from the Village Market grocery store deli.

The Green Chili Stew from Village Market’s deli is pretty good!

Arizona and New Mexico have more mountains than we expected, and some of them are whoppers. Check your preconceptions at the border when you enter a new state. Surprises await!

We knew the desert gets cold at night, but really? 21F? That’s not cold, that’s Arctic! Unplug the water hose from spigot; drain water lines; wear a shirt, pants, and socks to bed; and add your robe to the five layers of blankets you already have on the bed. Oh, and your coffee or tea the next morning will be cold within three minutes. Welcome to winter.

Walmarts in New Mexico have loads of Mexican candy right before Christmas. Taste-testing results? Mixed.

With so much mountain driving behind us, Simon now has a quiet confidence while driving Fati, without relaxing his guard or taking safety for granted. Susan can sit in the passenger seat without gripping the arm rests for dear life. As of right now, this single minute, assuming nothing, travel is an absolute pleasure.

Posole (Mexican pork and hominy stew) is a gift from God. Eat it and know you are loved!

What We Learned During Our Sixth Month On The Road


Today marks six months since we locked the door to our house in Florida and set off for a year-long adventure in an RV. Here’s what we learned during the past month:

Know your limitations. No matter how much you want to camp overnight in the middle of the desert at Quartzsite, when the ground temperature is 107 and you don’t have the ability to run at least one air conditioner (never mind your fridge) it’s time to re-think things. The fact there’s no one else out there and the locals are complaining about the heat are hints, too. Find a way to get the “flavor” of the experience and book that night in a campground with hookups.

Know the difference between a true limitation and fear.

When you can’t change the situation, change the inner dialogue. Yeah, yeah, we’ve all heard that, but the worst that can happen if you give it a try is that you’ll be right where you were before you tried. Start with “You can do this! You’re awesome, and you’re going to feel fantastic about yourself when you get through it! Go you!” and add to it as needed. Be your own giddy cheerleader.

Have a dear friend who texts you and says, “YOU CAN DO HARD THINGS!” That reminder is priceless. (Thank you, Katie!)

You’re going to see a lot of signs in the Southwest that read, “Watch For Rattlesnakes.” It will occur to you at some point that you don’t actually know how to watch for rattlesnakes.

Sedona, Arizona will get straight to the heart of whatever you’re struggling with. Don’t believe in spiritualism or an afterlife or any of that crap? Too bad. Sedona, Arizona has news for you, and even though it might take months or years of sitting with what it’s telling you, Sedona is going to tell you. Do believe in all that crap? You’ll get there quicker.

There is so much more history in the American West than we ever imagined, especially in Arizona.  It’s astonishing to discover places like Tuzigoot and Casa Grande, which had vibrant, thriving communities more than a thousand years ago. It’s so much more than just “cowboys and Indians.”

If you clean up the dust in the morning, you won’t have to dust again until noon, and again before dinner, and once more before bedtime, and when you get up to pee at night, and it’s like that every single day, because there is so much more dust out West than we ever thought possible.

Your understanding of “be flexible” will change. At first, it meant you might drive further on any given day than you thought you would, or you’d have dinner out rather than cooking in, or you’d have to figure out how to stop that annoying whistling sound through the window when you move from one campground to the next. Now, it’s a philosophy for life. Combined with “forget about blame and focus only on a solution,” it’s pretty powerful.

Wave at everyone when you’re taking a stroll around the campground, and when one of them comes knocking on your door and asks you over for drinks, go. Oh, the happy evenings sharing travel stories! It’ll make leaving the campground very, very hard when it’s time to move on, and there will be tears, but those memories from the trip will be among your best.

When you hit that half-way mark in your Year on the Road, it’ll feel like you’ve been away from home forever, and also that it’s all gone so fast. On to the next six months!