Maybe because it's not quite real in my mind yet, still years out, still in its infancy stage...in other words, maybe because mostly what I've done on this page up to this point is talk about music...but I still take a sort of 'no big deal' approach to thinking about 1/48/50. At this point, I still think only of the good stuff - the sense of freedom, the sublime weightlessness of travel, of being nebulous, of what I might discover on the road, about my country, my countrymen, and myself. It would be difficult to imagine those kinds of thoughts provoking anything other than excitement and anticipation.
It's only when I really sit down and give it some extensive thought, really ponder the logistics, and the time in which I'm expecting to carry it out, that 1/48/50 is revealed to be, in actuality, a major, major undertaking, something way beyond a road trip, which I will at some point have to really start preparing for in earnest, not just fantasize about.
It's going to involve six months away from my home, away from anyone's home, an extended period of time having none of the things I'm used to having at my disposal, the types of things that are so embedded in our daily lives we hardly notice them, until they're gone. My entire day-to-day routine will have to be demolished and a new one built nearby, like a pro sports stadium, with all sorts of new and improved features to accommodate my drastic change in circumstances. Circumstances that aren't going to return to normal after a week...or two weeks, or three weeks, or even a month. Or TWO months. That's the strange, and yes, even a little intimidating, part: the nebulous life will have a degree of permanence. For a little while.
There will surely be moments when I'll have to improvise, in a thousand unforeseen ways. In Travels with Charley, John Steinbeck describes the unique idea of placing his dirty clothes in a garbage can with water and soap and letting the constant jostling of a day's worth of driving wash them cleaner than he'd ever seen. Doubtless there will moments like that, and to that end, hopefully more happy accidents than sad ones.
But it begs the question; where will I be washing my clothes? I guess I'll be living in laundromats. Or maybe I'll try Steinbeck's trick...but the point is, I'll have to come up with something. And the actual answer to that question (and others: where will I buy laundry soap?, where will I sit and drink coffee?, where will I pick up some groceries?) is going to change from day to day.
And I hope this is not the case, but there may well come moments when I need to draw from whatever stores of mechanical know-how I possess. This is a 14,000 mile drive after all. And that could be where I run into trouble....or hassle, at the very least.
What if my vehicle broke down 2,000 miles from home? What if it broke down 65 miles from anywhere? In a worst-case scenario, I'd be thumbing my way into town, talking to an unfamiliar individual about the options and probably paying a painfully outrageous towing fee. And it could be said that - when it comes to being stranded in the middle of nowhere - maybe that's the best case.
The best way to avoid a mechanical calamity is to carry out proper maintenance. An ounce of prevention. To that end, I do have the knowledge required to perform basic engine maintenance. I can check all the fluids and replace as needed, accurately check/fill tire pressure, have changed oil myself in the past (certainly understand the importance of having someone do it regularly)...could probably figure out spark plugs if I were tested. But more to the point, I have some fairly adequate (I think) troubleshooting skills. I know what certain sounds and noises mean, or could mean - the cumulative effect of having until recently in my life driven mostly junkers, and have a reasonable know-how as to what to do next when I hear them.
The ability to troubleshoot, more than the ability to actually fix something, will probably be my greatest tool. If the plan is to take an RV, it's almost certainly going to be a used one. And a used RV is like any other used vehicle - pretty much the acquisition of someone else's headache. A certain amount of rigging will be necessary at some point. After all, it's not just the engine to consider, but other working elements as well - holding tanks and hook ups, plugs and outlets, AC unit, generator, propane, etc...an RV is more of a vessel than a vehicle, and for six months, one will be central to the construction of my new daily routine. Staying on top of these things, however odious I find chores like that to be, will be in my best interest.
I've said many times I don't want to work too hard to have a good time. This has always fueled my aversion to ocean sailing. I love to watch videos of people's adventures across the Pacific, but can't see myself being responsible for so much. And yet, if I really sit and think about it, follow all my thoughts through to conclusion, I'm excited, not intimidated, by the challenges I may face on my road trip. A certain amount of uncertainty will be the underwriter of 1/48/50, and the way I respond will be crucial in deciding whether I spend most of it riding the highways and byways of my soul, or sitting in a waiting area at a mechanic's garage in Bumblebutt, Wherever, sipping bad coffee and awaiting bad(der) news.
I will in any case probably be spending a fair amount of time in laundromats, rocking the Pole Position game, waiting for my garbage can-washed clothes to dry.
