I am thankful, like a Turkey still living on Black Friday, for my son and his understanding and willingness to have allowed me the freedom to do this traveling over the past year. I know his patience grows thin for the open road these days, and in return for his goodwill I will find us some place where fellow children can be met and counted on to be there in the longrun, where playdates can make themselves a common occurrence, where an actual bed can be the very same place he falls and asleep and wakes up for days into months at a time. I am thankful for his hand massages. I am thankful for his Play Doh sculpture gifts and love of long walks to sleep in tents in forests with me.

I am thankful for Germany, that country with a rather tarnished reputation, but still, I am thankful for its creating my bus and what wonder that feat of engineering has bestowed upon me over the short time I’ve lived and loved in her. I am thankful for the country which produced my greatest great grandparents and gave me my last name, my son his as well.

I am thankful for whatever culmination of childhood events provided me with attitude I possess which indicates no other possibilities for my mind but to follow my heart, for my shoes but to follow my instincts. By reaching for the unattainable I have been given nearly everything I could ever imagine wanting, and none of it came with much of a price tag while all of it came with enough valuable worth to make me know that, while I hope to ripen old through many future decades, if I were to die tomorrow I truly believe I have experienced vast more than my fair share in this world.

Thanksgiving doesn’t call on us to purchase plastic nothing for each and every person in our lives, trading landfill paper wrapped future closet space waste or Goodwill fodder. Thanksgiving doesn’t come stuffed with cheesy canned movie trailers and commercials where bad actors make humanity wonder if they’ll ever live as much as the random odd puppies and candy covered chocolates parade. Thanksgiving celebrates nothing but it’s namesake, sharing food and time and nothing much else is required with family or friends. It doesn’t result in three months of credit card debt. May your days be filled with the family, food and football of the holiday, and if the holiday is truly based on a gesture of initial goodwill between the native men and women of this great Turtle Island continent and my ancestral European dreamchasers, then I am thankful for that and will relish their memory on the shores of Florida’s coast with every ounce of my ability.

Supplies

• 4″ High Density Foam, for the cushions.
• Several yards of fabric, including some extra so that I can eventually cover the top bunk (aka, Tristan’s room) which wasn’t in nearly as bad shape but could still use a little sprucing up one day.
• Scissors, thread, a thimble, all of the gear of which Olivia once would have so lovingly taken care.

A day and a half, and a pretty major blood blister on my thumb, later and we were in business!

Tristan’s birthday comes and goes with the snow. He’s 8 now and so that means more chores, of course!

In the past month I’ve been fortunate enough to lug around our ex-monster of a home the 29′ RV, ride a scooter 1100 miles down out of the Rockies, take a train across Texas, fly on a big old jet airliner back to Denver, drive the stick shift of a lady VW bus and even cruise around in a swanky new Toyota 4Runner (driving a modern truck vs. an RV/manual transmission bus is insanely easy, you basically just point her where you want to go and let it do the rest.)

Whether exploring cities by public transit, hiking backcountry in beat up old shoes or being toted around by a taxi cab, though, it’s a blast having the opportunity to try out so many methods of moving yourself from one Point A to the next.

Autumn goes bountiful while Winter threatens an imminent arrival. Life in the foothills of the Front Range.

• She was born in the 70’s, 1978 to be exact and is one of a limited number of buses that was kitted out with a brown dash rather than black (part of the Champagne Edition, hence her name). Though this is largely word of mouth and I haven’t found a whole lot of other info on the matter.
• Riviera converted her, which means we have a fiery little Coleman stove, Coleman heater, a Norcold minifridge which has definitely seen better days, (but she keeps it cold!), and a small sink with both an electric and hand pump. The top pops to reveal Tristan’s bedroom, and the seat in the back lays down into a bed (which I’ve already done a little work with, reupholstering).
• The previous owner bought her for his kids to take up into the Rockies over the summer. They’re 18 and older, and as young folk tend to do, they made other plans for their summers. Thusly, she was put up for sale and we traveled all the way from Western Texas to pick her up in Fort Collins, CO.

I intend to do quite a bit of work to her beyond the small amount we’ve already done, though just keeping her cleaned out takes a good chunk of my days away. Stay tuned!