That’s a good question.
I mean, that’s a REALLY good question.
See, I went to Michigan to pick up my little RV, whose name is Jenny–like a female mule, you know–and proudly took possession of her on March the 4th.
My life changed immediately upon climbing up into her new-smelling, spiffy cab, and trundling off into the not-quite-wilderness, as I spent my first night parked under the glaring lights of a friendly Wal-Mart.
They had every right to be friendly, as I spent hundreds of dollars provisioning for what was to become one of the most liberating, exhilarating months of my life.
I did not open my computer even once.
I did not check my email.
I did stop at my friend Jan Bloom’s, in Paw Paw, Michigan, and commissioned a totally custom-built tenor guitar. Jan is a crackerjack luthier, and a very much adored pain in the ass.
Then I headed off the beaten path and into some wild and wonderful adventures. Pictures to follow.
Now I am boondocking in my own driveway. (“Boondocking” is RV lingo for camping without an official campsite.) I tried to dump the black tank (the shitter) into my outhouse, since the black tank is getting rather full, but the discharge hose wouldn’t reach, so that means I have to find someplace with a dump station and pay money to dump my excreta.
Come to think of it, my “house batteries,” which run the lights and everything else, could use a good plug-in, since I’ve been charging them off the engine generator and it’s been too cloudy to get the coveted assistance my solar panel adds on sunny days…so tomorrow night will likely be at some local overpriced campground that has no better scenery than I already have in my driveway, which sits on a cliff above the North Toe River.
You may think it strange that I am sleeping in my camper in my own
driveway, but Jenny and I have a special bond…