On the Road Again

Alright already, you caught me. My last two blogs have plagiarized song titles.

I probably don’t need to be so forthcoming. There’s a chance most of you might not have noticed. On one hand, a lot of people don’t recognize song titles. And on the other hand, people who recognize a song from the Beatles might not recognize a song from Willie Nelson.

Nevertheless, I am forthcoming. So I tell you now; the title above is not mine. It’s Willie Nelson’s. The sentiment of the song, however, is mine—LuAnn‘s and mine.

As of January 5, we’re…

On the road again

Goin’ places that (we’ve) never been

Seein’ things that (we) may never see again

And it’s good. It’s good to be back on the road. We’ve come to like this life. At least for now.

I wouldn’t say we’ve become completely accustomed to life on the road. Not in the sense that we believe what we’re doing is normal.

As we travel we’ve met a lot of people who travel full time but we haven’t met anyone who does it quite like us. By all accounts, what we’re doing (living without a physical residence) has some normalcy. But the way in which we’re doing it (in a minivan with little to no itinerary or resources), has not.

We will settle down some day. At least we think we will. No, I’m sure we will. That probably won’t look “normal” either.

I wouldn’t say we’ve become comfortable with living on the road. Not if by comfortable you might assume a level of convenience or ease.

Don’t make the mistake of thinking this is an enviable way to live. If you find yourself feeling jealous of our lives, you have not been reading between the lines. Or, maybe you’re even more of a romantic than I am. If that’s possible.

I would say, however, we’ve become familiar and adept at living on the road. Perhaps even proficient. It appears we’ll try anything and go anywhere and do so with little to no consternation.

The fear of peculiar things and strange places is gone. The hesitation to “boldly go where no one has gone before” is gone. The timidity of meeting new people and trying different food is gone. The concern over breaking down or getting lost is gone. The worry about finding yet another place to sleep is gone. The attachment to stuff and things is gone. The uncertainty about our future is…well, that’s still here.


On January 5, after an unexpectedly long stay in Michigan, we made an abrupt (and also unexpected) beeline down to the southern-most tip of Texas to see my dad (he and Ruth winter in Texas) to celebrate Ruth‘s 90th birthday.

Way to go Ruth.

After the “wild” parties and the completion of a couple projects around the house, we headed north and spent nearly three weeks camping on the shores of East Texas. And I mean camping on the shores.

Did you know the beaches along the Gulf shores of Texas are public highways? And that you can sleep on the beaches? I didn’t. But they are. And you can. It’s rough and primitive camping, but it’s free.

This has been a surprise to us—that we would spend three weeks camping on the beach. But we had a great time.

We spent 38 days in the desert last year and that was a surprise too. But that was also a great time. I guess we continue to try new things.

I don’t usually give any hints as to what we’re planning to do next. Mostly because we change our minds and our plans way too easily and often.


We plan to attend an Ash Wednesday service in New Orleans. (Yeah, I know. That’s the day after Mardi Gras.) If we survive, we’re going to follow the historic U.S. Route 90 all the way to the Atlantic.

Our granddaughter, Farrah, turns three on March 30 in Holland. We’ll be there for that. We plan to be in Michigan for the month of April and then head to Minnesota and the farm sometime in May.

…or something close to that.

Upon learning what we’re doing and how we’re doing it, several people have asked nearly the same question. “How do you do it? How can you spend so much time so confined and close to each other?” We should probably come up with some deeply profound and instructive, if not inspirational, reply. Unfortunately, our answer is pretty boring. “We like being together. We’re best friends.”

Here we go again

Like a band of Gypsies we go down the highway

We’re the best of friends

Insisting that the world keep turnin’ our way

And our way is on the road again



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