My way

This week found me making my way (sans spouse and pooch) to Tucson, Arizona to attend my uncle's funeral. When I first received news of his death, I knew I wanted to be with my family but was concerned that any options for transport might not be viable in terms of cost and time. Then, I recalled passing an Amtrak facility during one of our semi-monthly grocery runs. I researched the matter and found that rail travel would be less expensive and more convenient than either driving or flying. (Also, avoiding the whole stand-in-line-for-your-public-strip-search/random-colonoscopy-thing – courtesy of the TSA – held considerable appeal.) So, this past Sunday I caught Amtrak train #1, the Sunset Limited, out of Alpine, Texas.

The station at Alpine, like most rural stops, is a

no frills operation. This guy hasn't been paid in

years!

Overpriced dinner and three-hour arrival delay not withstanding, the trip went well. That said, this recent experience reinforced my notion of some of the perqs of RV living. Not only do I not have to endure the annoyances associated with setting up camp in a strange room – personal favorites include figuring out why none of the three remote controls on the television actually works the television or stepping into the shower only to find that the hot and cold water lines have been reversed - I get to sleep in my own bed, never have to pack (or unpack) a suitcase, and know exactly which light switch operates which light.

These benefits were apparent from the start. During the past nine months, we have had a few other epiphanies, and a few adjustments lie ahead. After all, part of the fun of this lifestyle is having the flexibility to do things our way.

First off, we like volunteering. Leonard and I enjoy taking on new challenges, meeting people, basically everything associated with visitor center hosting. Both of the positions we've held thus far have required three-month commitments, tethering us in a single location longer than we prefer. We're ready to put more recreational into our brand of recreational vehicle living. From here on out, we will consider only shorter-term volunteer opportunities (two months or less).

Secondly, building a “career” as a volunteer, like building a professional career, requires knowing one's strengths and limitations. We initially planned to mix visitor center jobs with campground hosting. After seeing what the latter actually entails, such as coping with campers who think the “No Campfires Allowed” sign next to their site must have been meant for somebody else or waiting for the midnight knock on the door from someone wishing to report a broken light bulb in the bathhouse, we decided to admit that neither of us has the patience to be good campground hosts. Visitor centers, where your day ends when you turn out the lights and walk out the door, suit use just fine.

Finally, when it comes to location, remote is okay for a couple of weeks. Spending entire days refilling a propane tank or buying a head of lettuce gets old. Fast. From now on, we'll stick closer to civilization.

Pondering this fine tuning makes me think about my late uncle. He lived his 95 years with great enthusiasm and vigor, and if he had had a theme song, it would have been the old Sinatra tune “My Way.” His will be a tough act to follow, but I'm willing to give it a shot.
 

Street art at its finest. A mural on the wall of my cousin's gallery.