My Spaceship RV

There is a clear Plexiglas skylight above my overhead bunk in the motorhome. Last night after climbing in, I glanced up. Oh, my goodness! There were a thousand stars! It was beautiful!

If you have read much of my writing, you know I am fascinated by Space and space travel. So last night in bed staring at the heavens, I thought to myself, “If my little motorhome were a spaceship, this is what it would look like out my window.”

Back in Tucson a week ago, I visited the Pima Air and Space Museum where there's a prototype of the Apollo capsule, the tiny spaceship that took men to the Moon. It was used by Tom Hanks in the movie Apollo 13, so you know it must be exactly like the real deal.

I observed that there was very little room inside — about the same as in a 10-foot travel trailer. I felt claustrophobic just looking at it. What must it have been like for three men to be in such a tiny area, hurling through Nothingness, a quarter million miles from Earth? I tried to imagine. I couldn’t.

Last night in bed looking at those stars, my mind was thinking again about Space.

I recalled reading a year ago about a billionaire who's planning a mission to Mars and back in a spaceship about the size of my motorhome. The craft won’t land, just slingshot around the planet and return home.

He has already recruited potential astronauts. Two people will go. The ideal candidates are a happily married couple in their 50s. The idea is that they will be in a tiny, confined area for six months. They must have a history of getting along well: there’s nowhere to hide if Mama and Papa are having a spat.

I THOUGHT ABOUT WHAT IT MIGHT BE LIKE to take such a trip. From my overhead bunk I looked into my motorhome. The shades were pulled. It was dead quiet. I could have been anywhere, even in Space.

What would it be like to be in a tiny space about the size of my RV for months on end? Could I do it? As is, I can step outside whenever I wish. I can run to the store when I need something. I can talk to other people. I can breathe fresh air!

But what if I couldn’t get out for six months or even open a window?

I thought about it. I tried to imagine that at that very moment I was traveling through Space. I mean, I could have been. It would have looked and felt exactly the same. Pretty close, anyway.

But, no, I concluded, I could not do it. I love my little motorhome, and I love being in it. At night, when it is all closed up and I am comfy, maybe on my couch reading a book, I am as content as a person could be.

But a good part of a year in such a tiny place? Nope. Couldn't do it.

I guess I’ll never make it into Space. I’m too old anyway. I feel sad admitting that. It’s one lifetime dream I need to abandon. I think maybe I was born 100 years too soon.