The more astute among you who read my inaugural post may have noticed that third definition of serendipity, “The name of David and Kim’s Airstream Classic.” You won’t find that one in Merriam-Webster’s so there must be a story behind it.
Of course there is.
You don’t just wake up one day and say, “A nomadic lifestyle sounds like fun. Let’s sell the house, buy an RV, and live life on the road.” Well, maybe you would do something like that, but we certainly didn’t. We had done some interesting things together, but we always came back to our rather conventional, workaday lives. This new idea had to form first as a crazy notion, then acquire a whiff of possibility, then have time to gestate. What would we do with our stuff? What if we grow tired of it or just don’t like it? Could we do this with cats? What about work?
And so it began.
First, we decided to dip our toes in and buy a small travel trailer. One that would be good for overnighters and long weekends. Definitely one that our midsize SUV could tow without modification. We bought an Airstream Basecamp. We loved it. We used it exactly as we imagined. We even parked it in the driveway and brought the cat out there to acclimate him. We grew excited about going places with our own kitchen and bathroom and bed. But there were two problems: I was too tall, by an inch and a half, to stand up straight inside, and it was against city code to park it in our driveway.
What to do?
Size first. A new trailer. The Basecamp had infused us with an enthusiasm for Airstreams (ask any Harley Davidson owner about brand affinity, they would understand). But the next bigger model up the line was too heavy for our car. And what about the code police? These two factors together forced our hand. If we were going to continue down this path, we would have to commit. So we did. In a big way. We bought a truck. But not just any truck. We bought one that could tow any Airstream we would ultimately buy anywhere it could go.
Next: introducing Tiny.