We’ve lived in the travel trailer for 10 months.
It’s as comfortable to us now as you probably are in your brick and mortar home. I’ve even come to a reasonable amount of peace with the sudden loss of water pressure to the kitchen sink.
When I met our landlord last December, she was very eager about the prospect of us being more than tenants.
“When I move back here from California, you and your mom could just buy another trailer, park it out here and we could be neighbors!”
There was talk of a shared compost pile.
I laughed. Silly lady.
Three months ago, she suggested it again via email.
I laughed again.
Then I thought about it. And you know, I rather liked the idea.
So I decided to run it by mom: “Mom, here’s a crazy idea. How about we buy our own trailer and live out here for another year. Or two.”
She laughed. “I think I’m ready to move on from camping full time,” she said.
A couple weeks later we crunched some numbers and when we saw that – even with the purchase of our own trailer – our living expenses would be less than two percent of our respective incomes, we stopped laughing.
And we said yes.
Then we started house hunting, which means we’ve found treasures like this one:
An 8-track player IN the trailer … with speakers. Orgasmic.
We’ve heard descriptions like: “There’s no front window … just that puffy insulation and a tarp.”
We’ve looked at gutted out trailers and we’ve started generators to make sure the electrical wiring was in tact.
We’ve asked questions like: “Is it structurally sound?” And “What does ‘connect the toilet mean?'”
We’ve had full length conversations about the water routing and laughed about the bed that was on top of the hot water heater. “Is that safe?” “Omg. I was JUST thinking the same thing.”
I’ve asked myself, as recently as yesterday, if I want to keep living this life. If I’m tired of camping full time. If I want the luxuries afforded in a house.
But every time I gut check myself, I get the same answer. My soul isn’t ready to give up this unconventional life I’ve established for myself and with my mother. Most people might dream of their brick and mortar house and one day that might be my dream, but this life is the one I’ve wanted. Simple. Minimal. Unusual. Different.
So for as long I can and for as long I want to, I’m going to keep it up. And the crazier part is that mom’s on board with me for another round.
Bartender, pour another.
Or something like that.
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