Tin Can Travels —
What It’s Like To Live, Work, And Play On The Road
(Year-Round, In Less-Than-200-Square Feet)

Home / Tin Can Travels —
What It’s Like To Live, Work, And Play On The Road
(Year-Round, In Less-Than-200-Square Feet)
/ Living In A Tin Can --
A Blog About Traveling Year-Round In Less-Than-200-Square Feet
/ The Road To RVing --
Scratching Them Itchy Feet With An Recreational Vehicle

The Road To RVing —
Scratching Them Itchy Feet With An Recreational Vehicle

Scratching Them Itchy Feet With An Recreational Vehicle -- a look at what it means to suffer from "the wanderlust," and how full-time RVing is the cure (#blogpost #RVlifestyle #RVer #fulltimer #fulltimeRVing #Airstream #glamping #travel #lifeofadventure #homeiswhereyouparkit) at http://ramonacreel.com/2018/01/05/living-in-a-tin-can/scratching-itchy-feet-rv/Some folks are perfectly content to live in the same nesting-staycationing-never-venturing-more-than-ten-miles-from-home-locale their entire lives. And I wish ’em well — tucked up all warm and snug on the couch mit blankie and cocoa. Just leaves more world for me to see!

I inherited busy feet from my father — that man could not sit still to save his life. Very little excited him more than jumping in the car and heading off to wherever he’d never been. (Well, except a ridiculous bargain on something he didn’t actually need in the first place.)

I’m definitely Richard’s daughter in that regard. The “continuous-state-of-exploration-makes-me-happy” part — not that “defeat-your-whole-purpose-as-a-massive-cheapskate” thing.

But our society’s insanely-restrictive-and-supremely-American-two-week-vacation-limitation (to which I was subjected back when someone else called my shots and I stupidly allowed an external employer to dictate said leave-of-absence schedule) frustrated me — did you know that even Bangladesh mandates more time off for its workers? We’ve reached a whole new level of sad when a country that ranks in the top ten WORST places to be employed does something labor-related BETTER than the United States.

I was faced with a serious dilemma. How in the name of Odin’s great glittering golden gonads was I going to fit all the destinations I wanted to visit into just 14 planetary rotations every trek around the sun?

I know, move faster!

So I became a “banzai-excursionist,” a samurai-suicide-sightseer, treating every trip as though it might be my last. And at the rate I was going, each was very likely to become exactly that — at least for the woefully-mortal-running-themselves-ragged-struggling-in-vain-to-keep-up-with-my-energizer-bunny-ways globetrotting companions who dared attempt a journey with me. It took me a while to figure out why they all returned home broken and bleeding and twelve-plus-letter-word-cursing the day I’d ever discovered Roadside America. (I’d always just thought they were pussies.)

For a lotta years, my motto was “if you’re semi-conscious and not doing at LEAST three different things simultaneously, you’re a travel slacker.” I crammed as-much-activity-as-humanly-possible-and-then-a-little-bit-extra-for-good-measure into my itineraries. And I’ll tell you right now, you do NOT want to mess with a compulsive planner and her recreational checklists — she will fuck you up and force you to have a good time while she’s doing it! Armed with a combination of unrealistic expectations and superb scheduling abilities, I guaranteed that pretty much any expedition (while stuffed-to-overload-with-fun-and-resulting-in-a-photo-album-full-of-memories) would end in exhaustion.

But as a full-timer, I can stay in one place as long as my greasy little heart desires, enjoying all that an area has to offer sans deadline — zero anxiety, negative pressure, minus any vague FOMO-based sense of disappointment. I’m no longer in a mad rush to tackle every landmark known to man as quickly as possible, before the forced return to real life. This is real life, and it moves at a much more leisurely pace.

I now go farther afield, discovering cool-art-walk-funky-festival-weirdo-neighborhood-stuff I’d have previously missed (when I rarely had time to leave the beaten path). And even though I travel more than ever before, the word “vacation” has virtually disappeared from my vocabulary — as the work/play line blurs, and touristing becomes just another normal part of my daily routine. Most importantly, it no longer bothers me if I miss an activity, because I know I can come back again whenever I want.

I’ve even started a whole new set of lists for each city — “to do next time!”

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    3 Responses

    1. Damon says:

      Jen wanted to live where it doesn’t get hot. I wanted to live where it doesn’t get cold. So we just move to where it’s mild at that moment. :) Texans. It’s all about getting away from the heat.

    2. Jim says:

      We owe it all to our dog Jerry, who was diagnosed with osteosarcoma and had an amputation in late 2006. When he was given a few months to live, we decided to sell our business, our home, and nearly everything we owned to get an RV and travel the country together as a pack. Jerry survived two years, and by that time we discovered we loved the full-time lifestyle and just kept on trucking. And our story was featured on “Nature, Why We Love Cats and Dogs” which first aired on PBS in 2009.

    3. Ramona says:

      Jim — I actually just watched that a couple of weeks ago! I had no idea that was you — I was so sad for your puppy but he seemed so happy romping around in the outdoors. So you kept on RVing after that? Good for you!

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