Why I like to travel in my RV like a gypsy

I came across a book recently about "Running Away With the Circus." But what it was really about was running away from one's present life and to a new one. Quitting an executive job to take up pottery-making would be an example. Retiring early to go full-time RVing would be another.

When you were young did you ever dream of joining the circus? I did. Oh, I was never serious about it, but I did ponder the idea of drifting from place to place gypsy-style. I have never understood my need to be a drifter. Some people need to plant roots firmly and then stay planted. I never desired deep roots, but shallow ones that could be easily replanted elsewhere.

I know people who love one place. They may try living in different towns, but never feel quite at home until they arrive in a special town where, for the first time, they feel complete. "This is it," they say, and that is where they remain forever.

I have never found such a place. My place has always been somewhere different from the place before. And my house — my very favorite house — has always been my motor-house, the one that allows me to live as a gypsy without being so conspicuous that people think me odd. I like waking up often in a different place, but I especially like it when I awake in such a place in my very own RV's bed. I believe this is like having your cake and eating it, too.

Right now, I'm feeling a bit of what I felt as a young man when I dreamed of joining the circus — of seeing new places and having new experiences. Have you ever stood at the airport and watched a friend's plane take off to a place far away? Did you want to go? Did you feel envy? Did you feel left behind? That's how I feel right now.