August 5, 2012
“The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” Lao Tzu
A year and a half ago, my husband, Craig, and I moved in with my Father. My Mom’s health was failing and she was living in an adult foster home. Dad was alone. It was only a matter of time before she would leave us and Dad would truly be all by himself. We made, what I will always believe to be, the best decision of our lives. We moved our stuff to the house I grew up in, a place we lovingly refer to as the “farm.”
My family home is a 1960’s ranch on 2 acres, meticulously cared for, and maintained in a park-like fashion. Dad is a displaced-to-Oregon, Indiana farm boy, and retired civil engineer. He is my living example of the greatest generation. Honest and hard working even at 88, he rarely sits, and if he does, he makes sure that we have something to do. He is active, his mind is active, and he keeps us active. It takes both my husband and I, moving at full speed, to keep up with him and the monumental amount of work that he/we conjure up.
But, as they say, even the most stalwart workers need a break. Dad loves to travel, but the logistics of traveling seemed overwhelming. We have a dog, Dad is an incredibly picky eater, and financially, airfare, hotels, restaurants, etc. seemed out of the question. Craig and I have always loved to camp and the idea of hitting the open road in an RV seemed like a great solution. The dog could come and I could cook Dad’s favorite foods. A bed for napping, the bathroom, and food would always be close at hand.
Other than his time in the service, my Dad has never camped. My Mom was adverse to the idea of traveling in any fashion other than hotels and restaurants. Many years ago, as we were buying a trailer to travel with the kids, Mom told me that if I actually liked to camp, I would be doing it to spite her. Well, I do like to camp, and as we didn’t ever ask that she go with us on one of our camping trips, it doesn’t seem like I really took to the idea with any malice intended. So, I broached the idea of motorhoming to Dad. When I explained that I would cook his preferred breakfast EVERY DAY, (crisp bacon, 1 egg over medium, hash browns, rye toast, and coffee) he warmed up to the idea. The motorhome search began in earnest.