She is what she is

Many of our friends and family didn’t get a chance to see our new dwelling before we left home. Later I realized how some of them were a little disappointed by that. So this entry is for you!
I guess I see their point. It is kinda like getting a new house or car. Everybody wants to be encouraging and excited for the other when something big like home ownership happens. Here’s the thing. Jeramie and I have lived in 9 different houses since we got married 8 years ago. The motorhome is just another “house” we have moved into. It is unique, in that this house has wheels and it is the smallest house we have ever been in. Oh, and it is deserving of a name. It’s deserving of a name because this house has some stories to tell. We haven’t found the right name that fits quite yet, so feel free to comment for voting.
How it began….
Jeramie and I had been praying for direction for our family, vocation, location, etc. We had been exploring all sorts of avenues and none of them were right. We have had a tremendous amount of spiritual growth this last year and Jeramie and my paths finally merged into the same direction. It has only taken eight years (nine altogether) but hey, what can I say. Some of us are stubborn and slow learners. Or maybe we are not very good listeners. Or maybe it's because I am such a good teacher that I have spent so much time making sure my husband has been learning his lessons that I ignored mine. Or quite probably it is all the above.
My husband is an independent soul. An adventurer. He would have easily been a pioneer had he been born 150 years ago. Ever seen “Far and Away”? That’s Jeramie, the role played by Tom Cruise. I am a bit, how should we say this…different than Jeramie. I have always envisioned myself with our place that we raise our kids our entire lives, where we have our “thing” that we do and a job that provides and that he loves. Vacations would be to some hotel in a tropical location with five star restaurants and things to do that do not require much energy exertion or getting dirty, preferably pedicures. Consistency, stability, security. This year I became convicted. I didn’t marry consistency, stability and security in the sense of lifestyle. I married energy, excitement , and exploration. I knew that when I met him. It is one of the things I actually love about him. My interpretation for consistency, stability and security gets in the way of who my husband is and most importantly, God’s plan for him. My prayer was answered. Like the flying orange that hit Jeramie in the head one night. I need to let go, put faith in my husband and ultimately faith in God. FEMA, here we come!
Fast forward. If we are going to do this full-time we need a proper set-up. We researched pick-ups and fifth wheels, class C’s (briefly), and class A’s. Get a pick-up and 5th wheel and if something should go wrong with the rig, we still have access to our “house”. Get a pick-up and 5th wheel and our kids are strapped in to the back seat indefinitely. No, thank you. Too much energy in a tight space. Not enough Dutch Bros. on this side of the mountains to handle that kind of chaos. They don’t make class C’s big enough for a family of 6 (5 people and a dog). That immediately eliminates that. O.K. class A it is. The ones they call “the coach”. We had a budget. It was a sad budget. Mr. Excitement is Mr. Conservative when it comes to money. We will not be financing anything. Unless it is a house without wheels on land, we pay cash for everything. Our very first motorhome to look at was a 1987 34’ Fleetwood Pacearrow. Boy was it sexy. Dusty Rose interior. No slides. It was a learning opportunity. One thing we walked away with is that the pictures lie. We were reminded of this time and time again. Oh, so do salesmen at RV dealerships. “We have the perfect RV for what you’re looking for with a very reasonable sales price! It’s on our other lot. I will call over there and let them know you are coming”. We were shown a newer 22’ Fleetwood Southwind with no slides. Yes, we had everyone but the dog in tow. We have got to look like a young, dumb family because for them to see us all, actually in the flesh and think we were delusional enough to entertain the thought of us living in a 22’ space could only be explained by us appearing to be young and dumb. Excuse me sir, we are Mr. and Ms. JENNINGS, not Mr. and Ms. El' stupido. They don’t like it when you have cash either. Again, a learning experience. We had been praying for the right equipment to move forward on this venture and if God has us doing this then he has the provisions it takes to accomplish it as well. Our coach was out there…somewhere.
Somewhere was Happy Valley, outside of Portland. By now we know our stuff. By now we know what our needs are and what would be “nice to have”. By now Jeramie was already working in Tennessee. This was all me. I interviewed the owner extensively and made an appointment to travel the distance to see it. I spent the day before working up a check-off list much like a vehicle window sticker with base price and how much each extra would add to the total price. I also had a depreciation formula to calculate what I would be willing to pay. I pulled up to a ¼ acre grassy lot totally out of place inside the business district of town. It was suppose to be some sort of RV storage. It was someones property overgrown with blackberry bushes, grass and untrimmed trees capitalizing on the unused space. Oh, there it is. Back there. In the bushes. Under the trees. I got out of the car and as the owner was walking across the lot to meet me he stopped mid-step and asked “do you work for an RV dealership? I already spoke with someone. I am not interested in trading it”. “WHAT! Where in the world did you get that impression?” “You have a clip board” “oh, this? No, no, no, I am just very thorough and I know what we are looking for so it will help to keep me from wasting your time” The owner was kind enough to start it up and pull it out of the ditch so that I could see it in the sun. Well, I guess it runs. Check.
We ended up with a 1997 37’ Fleetwood Bounder. You know the ones. With the big kangaroo bounding across the side of it. It has a slide in the living space/master suite. I cannot imagine living in anything smaller but I would if we had to. We ended up gutting it and restoring it with a new floor plan. It is humongous. It is pretty ugly too. Kinda a cream color with blue and yellow stripes on the side. It is LOUD. I thought the class A would be great for meeting the kids needs (or get after them) while driving down the road but 90% of the time I can’t even hear them yelling at me. Sometimes I will turn around to check on them and there is a mangled mess of feet and arms on the floor but no one is crying so I can’t tell if someone is getting pile-drived or if they fell off of the couch. Other times I will check on them and they are all entwined together like puppies, sound asleep sharing one gigantic puddle of drool. Still glad we got the class A. It works really hard to pull hills at around 45 miles per hour but it always reaches the top. It is so heavy that when you finally do, you hope you don’t burn up the breaks trying to slow it down while sailing over the other side. We have finally learned to let it go because we need the momentum to get up the next hill. It is so big that driving it while the wind is blowing feels like we are navigating a sail boat. We always love when we meet a semi coming from the opposite direction in a construction zone where they have narrowed the lanes and reduced them down to two lanes going opposite directions (instead of keeping one direction on their side of the interstate and us on our side) while maintaining a “limited construction zone speed of 65 mph that will prosecute violators with 14 years in prison and a $10,000 fine”. Geez, who needs coffee with that kind of adrenaline pumping? If anything, we need a good smoke to calm us down. It meets all of our needs and after our modifications it even has some of our wants, like Jeramie's 37” flat panel TV and PS3 that have been nicely mounted at the perfect angle in coordination with his specific spot on the couch. I don’t watch much TV so that was hard for me to understand but you know what? He works hard and doesn’t really ask for much so, whatever.
This motorhome has become “home”. It doesn’t matter where it is parked. The kids refer to it specifically as “home”. It is not unlike any other home. It requires some occasional attention which in this case Jeramie lovingly refers to as “deferred maintenance”. Things that should have been taken care of by previous owners but never where. We joke that it needs a good wax job. Some of the RV resorts we have been to are inhabited by retired men who spend their day waxing the sides of their coaches. Whenever Jeramie starts complaining about needing something to do, I tease him about the coach needing a good cleaning and waxing. Seriously, there is not a professional RV detailer that could help this beast. The retired men are always parked on the “good side” of the resort. We are officially victims of racism. There is a policy many resorts/parks hold that if your motorhome or trailer is more than 10 years old it may not even be accepted into the park. If they make the exception, they park you way out back so that you can’t be an unsightly embarrassment to them. Guess what? FINE WITH US! Hee, Hee, Hee, no hurt feelings here that our coach doesn’t fit their standards. It has been the saving tool that has continually blessed us with the end slips that house us closest to or exactly beside the most spacious areas that allow me to kick the kids outside to burn off the energy. God knows what he is doing. She is what she is, she may be ugly, but she’s ours!