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I may have mentioned that recreational vehicles are like homes writ smaller and more complicated with more systemic details than the typical home, what with multiple optional power sources, contained tanks of fuel, water, and other sundry liquids and so on. And then there’s the fact that the whole complicated thing is mobile, with all that mobility entails: starting, turning, stopping, and the like.

Yet none of this frightens me. Perhaps it should. While I may not have entirely “been there,” I most certainly have “done” most of “that.” Confidence, I have; competence I’ve mostly got also or, where lacking, could certainly learn. What seems to be lacking here is desire. Just because I can, doesn’t mean that I want to.

And so I’ve sold the camping car.

Don’t misunderstand my action—this was a great camping car: it had a big refrigerator, freezer, a comfortable bed, heat pump, furnace, air conditioner, a microwave/convection oven, and a dry bathroom. It was predictable and stable to drive and delivered 17.9 mpg. Etc, etc, etc. And Nuris was OK with it, too.

It just isn’t for me at this time. Maybe a couple of years ago–or perhaps in another couple of years it will be a swell idea. Just not now.

And so the Winnebago has a new happy family, who gladly paid the price I asked, in much the same way as I bought the rig last November.

As for me, I now have a set of $10,000 license plates, and I’m OK with that.

The sale rapidly and entirely completed, Nuris and I have again departed Pinedale, Wyoming for points west, this time in the four door sedan loaded with tent, sleeping bags and sleeping pads—and of course with the giant cooler.

We’re off to the Oregon coast, then to visit (and meet!) my once-and again daughter in Portland, after which friends and vistas north and east, eventually yet again returning to our good friends in Pinedale before eventually landing in Maryland.

Whooeee! I’ll keep you posted.

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