I HAD A Dream

For which of you, intending to build a tower,
sitteth not down first, and counteth the cost,
whether he have sufficient to finish it? 

Lest haply, after he hath laid the foundation, and is not able to finish it,
all that behold it begin to mock him, 
Saying, This man began to build, and was not able to finish.  

—The Gospel of Luke 14:28-30 (KJV)

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SO--IF YOU'VE READ THIS BLOG MUCH, at all, you know of our dream to have an Airstream trailer. We thought we were so close. How close? Close enough that I even opened the polls, so to speak, here on About Pops, asking for help in choosing an interior color scheme.

Well, it’s a long, long story. But it comes down to this: I “sitteth not down, and counteth the cost” (thoroughly enough anyway). And now you are free to mock me saying, “This man began this adventure to have an Airstream, but to this point has not been able to git ‘er done.”

Turns out, when I finally did sit down to count the cost of the Airstream model I had been coveting; let’s just say reality setteth in. The weight of the cost was not just in dollars; however, I did grossly underestimate the sum thereof. Along with things like doc fees, freight charges, taxes, extension mirrors, weight distribution hitch, anti-sway bars, hoses, blocks, chemicals… ad nauseum; there is also the cost of stress, anguish and uncertainty. Suddenly my visions of sitting under the awning of this silver beauty alongside a rushing stream on a cool morning, enjoying a cup of coffee, was overtaken by visions of a sitting alongside I-70 just outside of St. Louis on a 109 degree August day with a flat trailer tire, and being so broke I would have to work until I was 80, having nightmares of Dave Ramsay warning of careless spending.

Emotions are mixed. On the one hand, the horrific images of a holding tank disaster are gone, as are the potential panic attacks of pulling an aluminum carcass down the highway through the onslaught of a sudden Oklahoma hail storm. Unfortunately, also gone are those dreams of adventure on the open road I had imagined for us in our silver streak with the salsa interior.

Really though, deep down, I know the adventures will continue. They will just be different. You see, my Amazing-Missus and I are best friends. We were married eight years before our first child was born. (We didn’t want anyone to speculate that we “had” to get married [wink-wink]). So, living life together isn’t new to us. We’ll be fine.

“Surely there comes a time when counting the cost and paying the price aren’t things to think about any more. All that matters is value - the ultimate value of what one does.”

— James Hilton

Espresso, Oyster or Salsa

IN A FEW WEEKS, it will be two years since I went public here at About Pops with our dream to take to the open road in a shiny Airstream travel trailer. The potential of being judged as “impulsive” is eliminated.

Over the past two years, we’ve been to RV shows, visited dealerships, called on classified listings and even visited an Airstream rally. We’ve read blogs and forums and interviewed Airstream owners. Choosing the best model and size has been fun and formidable.

I’ve fretted over the wisdom of the expense at this stage of life, and have been haunted by the excess of it, making it a moral dilemma. Do I really have to justify everything?

Finally, for better or worse, we’ve made the decision. We’re gettin’ hitched (as in trailer to pickup). We have a couple of dealers offering us special deals on new trailers that are the model we’ve chosen. That’s the good news.

The other news is that we now face another big decision. We don’t want this one to take two years, so we are asking for your vote. That’s right. Here’s your chance to share your opinion, to help design the interior of a new Airstream. Normally, I wouldn’t throw an important matter like this onto the table of public opinion, but we are very lucky to have a lot of friends who are artists, designers, who have good taste and who know us well enough to help us with this decision.

As you ponder your vote, keep in mind that we really like modern design aesthetic, otherwise we wouldn’t be considering this Airstream model. Oh, and don’t forget this important factor: we have three Grand-Girls, ages 1, 3 and 6, who will be traveling with us from time to time.

There are three choices. Espresso, Oyster, and Salsa.

Espresso

Oyster

Salsa

Here’s how you can vote: You can leave a comment here in the comments section at About Pops. You can also leave your vote as a comment on the post on the About Pops Facebook page. Or you can tweet your vote on Twitter @AboutPops.

Please vote. And, when the Airstream finally arrives, maybe we’ll come stay in your driveway for a week or two.

Horse Then Cart

Let’s see if I’ve got this straight: horse, then the cart. Check.

In several posts on this blog, I’ve mentioned my longing for an Airstream trailer and the adventures I can see with my mind’s-eye. It’s like an itch that needs to be scratched. In one post, a year ago, I likened it, maybe over-dramatically, to a sort of siren’s call.

Also on this blog, I’ve recorded the fact that us Men of a Certain Age need a good hobby, or pastime; something that we can enjoy into our retirement years. At times I’ve felt some desperation in the fact that I don’t really have that; yet. Oh, I love hanging out with the Grand-Girls, in short bursts. Their energy level exceeds mine exponentially.

I like to read and write. I tried golf but it’s too expensive and makes me say really bad words; out loud.

I do love to travel, to see new things, to wander and wonder. It’s like Ellie said, in the wonderful movie, UP: “Adventure is out there!”

So, the dream of an Airstream is still alive and well and closer than ever before. But as my Amazing-Missus has lovingly pointed out to me several times: I tend to get my cart before my horse. The fact is that we’ve had neither horse nor cart. UNTIL NOW.

Yesterday we bought our horse, a new TV! That’s “tow vehicle” in nomad speak. After careful research, wailing and gnashing of teeth, we threw out a fleece, and went for it. Now we have a shiny, black Ford F150 Lariat with Ecoboost. This black beauty is rated at 9,000 GVWR. I’m not sure what that means but the chart says she will easily pull our Airstream (when we ever get one), me, Mimi, three Grand-Girls and all their MUST-haves: dolls, princesses, books, etc.

There she is: Our Black Beauty. We stopped by Elemental for a celebratory cup of coffee

I just finished reading, “The Power and The Glory” by Graham Greene. I highly recommend it. Towards the end of the book, Greene describes a man in the story this way: “He looked old and tired and bored—a man without a hobby.”

To all my friends of a Certain Age out there: let’s not be that guy.

P.S.: I highly recommend, If you’re shopping for a Ford for your adventure, go see Zack Thiel at England Ford in Hinton, Oklahoma. Zack is the antithesis of every stereotypical car salesman you could imagine. He very patiently walked with me through my always diligent and cautious and long process of making a big purchase. Thank you Zack. 

Having A Place

HOME SWEET HOME. You have to love a band that would call themselves Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. No doubt you've heard their music, at least the song called, "Home" with a chorus that says, "Home is wherever I'm with you." That's a sentiment I can appreciate.

I know for a lot of people having a place seems important. Maybe there's something agrarian in their blood, or maybe that's just normal. After all, some of mankind's earliest stories are about a people seeking a Promised Land. And now, a bazillion years later they're still fighting over whose dirt is whose.

On the other end of the spectrum is the "this earth is not my home, I'm only passing through" crowd; also a sentiment I can appreciate. Back in 1972, a guy named Larry Norman made a record called, "Only Visiting This Planet". He was an important person for me back then.

As I mentioned in a post a few days back called, Coming of Age in 1969, I was swept up in the whole "give peace a chance" deal. Larry was one of the catalytic characters for a bunch of us who wanted to shake things up and saw in Jesus a model we could identify with: universal love, pacifism, radical worldview, etc. So the "Jesus Freak" became a part of the counter-culture movement.

One of the prevailing themes of the day (at least in my memory of it) was to be good stewards and caretakers of this big round ball that is our temporary home. Communal living and farming became grand experiments in the new paradigm.

Today, there is something very familiar in the air (and I'm not talking about the air in Colorado and Washington). Every time I go to Whole Foods® for groceries, there's a wash of nostalgia--young guys with full beards and flannel shirts, young moms with a baby swaddled to themselves. There is one big difference though: back in the day, the girls wore long dresses and beads. Today they wear yoga pants (regardless of their size) and a North Face® pullover.

The magazines on the rack by the cashier have to do with organic cooking and raising chickens rather than the public and private lives of pop culture's finest. I'm a sucker for subliminal advertising and I will admit right here that if our fair city of Oklahoma City had passed a recent consideration to allow us gated-community suburbanites to raise a couple of chickens, I would be building my coop as we speak. It didn't pass.

And it's not just places like Whole Foods®. The other day I was in Lowes® home improvement store. On the rack with books about building your own deck or converting your den into a garage was a book on raising goats. This was something I know something about. I had a goat when I was young. His name was Cocoa. I'm not sure what ever happened to him. I don't remember seeing him after my Uncle David, who had lived for years in Corpus Christie introduced us to a delicacy called the fajita.

While I do enjoy having a place to call my own, I believe that Woody Guthrie was right; in a sense. "This Land Is Your Land; This Land Is My land" sort of; at least for a while longer. However, I would be perfectly happy to hook to the Airstream® (once we own one), and with my Amazing Missus head off on some nomadic adventure, swapping stories and good food in the wayfaring commune of other adventurers.