The Airstream

I don’t want the responsibility or the expense of an Airstream. I don’t want to learn how to back one into a campsite, or have to perform regular trailer maintenance or be the guy holding up a two mile line of traffic on the highway. I would just like for Debbie and I to wake up together in our own place and be the only ones in the world who know for sure where we are. 

They’re unreasonably expensive and it’s not like we need the Rolls Royce of trailers, but I think it has to be an Airstream. It’s a romantic notion that’s worked its way deep into my mythology. I’d like to “fix it up”, whatever that means.

There’s nowhere in particular I’d like to take it. Lord knows I’ve traveled enough and seen enough. I think a WalMart parking lot would be fine - or someone’s back yard. I’d want the retractable awning. Here’s the picture:

It’s raining but warm. We’ve got the awning deployed and we’re sitting under it in folding chairs. We’ve just returned from a long walk and beat the rain. Maybe we have Coronas. We’re watching the WalMart shoppers going to and from their cars and we’re discussing their purchases.