Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

When we sold our big house on the river three years ago, the idea was to free ourselves from all the maintenance that lawns, docks, decks, fireplaces, kitchens, bathrooms, and you-name-its required. In turn, this would allow us to take to the open road more frequently with less concern about home.

Since then we’ve done several road trips. But now we are embarking on our longest one ever. Five thousand miles, four weeks, three suitcases, two people, and one Conestoga Toyota. It isn’t exactly roughing it across the Great Plains, but as we start I feel like a pioneer.

We’re headed west with the farthest destination being Yellowstone National Park, but we plan to stop at every tourist attraction along the way. That includes the Iowa-80 truck stop, of course, so Earl can have his fill of chicken fried steak, and I can laugh at it.
I’m sure it will be the first of many great times.

We’ve left our small condo in the hands of a caretaker and are on our way.