Take off running — fall flat on your face. (But get up again.)
By: Laura Dee
Tags: Travel Writing, Nomad, Anxiety, Rving, Rv Life

I don’t know about you other generations — the Boomers, the Z’ers, X’ers, but we geriatric millennials, we’ve grown up in kind of a weird time. Although, I supposed every generation’s upbringing was a bit different, huh?

For me, and those who came after, I suspect — we now want to do things that all middle-aged folks crave. Adventure! A new start. A new car! A new job, a new life…

But, you have no actual experience doing those things. At least I don’t.

A lot of people I know, and I included, have adopted the “fake it til’ you make it” life philosophy, and let me tell you — that can work in some situations, but, trying to haul a 6000lb 34 ft long travel trailer around the country — that’s not something you can fake without making mistakes.

We’ve made SO MANY MISTAKES the last week.

First mistake — the condo’s dumpster was full because our landlord is/was not the greatest, so we had to hire junk haulers. We had SO MUCH STUFF we didn’t want or need anymore — where does it all go?

Why do we hoard stuff? I don’t ever want to have that much stuff again.

The second mistake — assuming we could do it all ourselves. Biggest thanks to our sweet pandemic bubble family in Colorado Springs who essentially saved our hides the week before our departure; helping us move, letting us park the RV on their land while we tried to figure out what the hell we were doing, etc.

Third mistake — LETTING THE CATS OUT OF THEIR CARRIERS IN THE TRUCK holy god. MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW also let’s try to escape the truck while we’re getting gas, fantastic. My 17-year-old feline can totally replicate the success from homeward bound when we accidentally leave him in Kansas, it’s fine.

Fourth mistake — bankrupting our energy supply with constant stress and movement. This, this is a big one. We went from Blake having oral surgery, to moving, to panicking about moving, to immediately on the road, driving 7 hrs a day towing a giant RV we’ve never towed on a highway before, or, anywhere, really.

This leads to anxiety and exhaustion upon pulling into a campsite, and not being able to function as human beings. Our fun meters were expired. Our rest was nonexistent. We made lots of silly mistakes and errors because we weren't thinking right. The decline of a credit card to get gas (because we were uh, in Kansas, which I can see would be strange to a bank) was enough to set us off like firecrackers, flailing miserably into the night sky.

Tack on not eating regular meals, while still being exhausted from moving? You start doing dumb stuff, like missing a stair and falling and cracking your kneecaps wide open (I’m fine, I’m just an idiot), stepping in dog do and then walking all over your RV, committing house plant homicide (I’m so sorry), shooting yourself in the face with a water house — the list goes on.

We locked all the animals and the only car key in the truck our second night on the road — it was Sunday, rural Missouri, and there were no locksmiths.

I’ve never known such lowness. Such powerlessness. Such regret. Such exhaustion.

Then, after walking away in sheer panic, having a moment of self-pity, I took a deep breath and did what I could. It took about 40+ tries, but between Ghost and Abrams (my old cat and old dog), Abrams was able to heed my direction through the window (Shake!! Shake, buddy! Lay that paw down, right here!)(The cat tried, but he’s so skinny and wasn’t heavy enough to open the dang thing) and finally smash the open window button and I got in and freed them.

The dog knew exactly what was happening. Really, we went through that anxiety attack together, got our shit together, and then got out of it together. There’s some hope in that message, I think.

Those are just a few of the numerous terrifying and uncertain issues we’ve faced in the past week. I’ve waited to write this post because I wanted something, SOMETHING positive to talk about, which I suspected would happen if I just gave it a little time.

So, let’s focus on the good.

WE HAVEN’T BROKEN THE RV YET. WOOO. We backed it up incorrectly the second night and I thought for sure the unit was toast. The wheels moved weird, the axels groaned, and I thought, welp, here is where I live now, in the middle of nowhere Missouri, I don’t even know the sports teams here, ugh.

But, the thing wanted to continue its journey with us, so we were able to get back on the road, safely.

We’ve both been driving the rig — it’s scary to be so very LONG on the highway, but thus far, we’re doing alright. Gas milage is at about 10mpg with empty tanks, so that’s good! We’re only doing 65 mph — we will probably get better tires in Ohio with my dad when we get there, just to make sure we’re safe.

Had to add our first couple gallons of Diesel Exhaust Fuel, which you need to run a diesel truck. We’ve discovered there’s little difference between automotive diesel and truck diesel, though truck diesel is dyed neon green and will come out VERY fast at a truck pump and scare the living bjesus out of you when it splashes up out of the truck. It kind of reminded me of ecto-cooler. Mmm. Juicebox gas.

Work has been GREAT. Blake is still figuring out the wireless router situation, but when we have internet, I find myself engaged, rejuvenated, and ready to make stuff. I haven’t felt that way in a long time. I hope it only gets better!

So, that’s where we’re at. We’ll spend another three nights here in Southern Illinois, then head up to Ohio this weekend to see friends and family. I’m hoping each trip will be easier, faster, better. I can’t just — quit. We will figure this out. I will figure this out.