In these very sad times, I’m blessed to live out a dream: the purchase of a recreational vehicle (RV).
All of my life, I’ve watched as RVs went west on Highway 401 while I was heading east, wondering what the various configurations of each one was like. Was the dining room table at the front of the rig or in the rear? How many people might it sleep?
So finally, as my life jelled, I bought one – a 1989 Winnebago with a Toyota cab and chassis. And it’s gorgeous.
The engine is clean, with only 90,000 miles on it. The cab is spotless. While it lacks some of the inventive toys of today (e.g. it doesn’t self park), it has cruise control, a coffee holder and a button that, when pushed, flips the gas line over to an additional gas tank. I’m in heaven.
But the kicker is the RV section itself – called a Warrior Winnebago – a 20-foot, well-engineered, fully insulated area equipped with air conditioning, a furnace, a refrigerator, two burners, a tap, counter, toilet, shower, sink and an electric fireplace. Our RV – my son and I own it – has a number of operating systems, including a propane tank, electrical plug-in for campgrounds, and solar panels on the roof. Learning these systems has been onerous, particularly for someone like me, who has running a non-profit for 20 years.
The big question is do I put a mezuzah on the doorpost?
I’m thinking of calling the RV Moses, but I need my son’s buy-in. He’ll likely choose Phil, as in Kessel, the hockey player. Moses (we’ll call it that for now) is indeed our second home. In it, we’ll travel around the continent learning about our existence. We’ll lie in it at night watching our favourite Marvel comic movie on our 19-inch flatscreen TV. What a blessing!
Moses is well stocked. In him you’ll find a warm hoodie hung in one of the numerous closets; an axe if we need to chop wood for a cold, old lady living in an isolated cabin; pots and utensils for our porridge and lentils; and the game of Risk to practise world dominance, should Vladimir Putin want to join us in our travels. I’ll likely have to let him drive. Ugh!
Of course, now that Moses is ready to go, we’re faced with the real challenge. Do we go east, west, north or south? Should we drive to Tennessee, the Yukon, New Mexico or Peru? Do we allow the road to unfold in front of us and go where the wind takes us, discovering treasures at each town we pass through, at each park where we join our RV counterparts to sing around the campfire while roasting marshmallows and s’mores?
Or perhaps our journeys should have a higher purpose. Shouldn’t we accomplish something lofty as our dual-tread tires touch the asphalt on the backroads of cul de sacs and villages. Shouldn’t we call out to everyone: “Moses is about to leave Pharaoh’s castle” on a trek to repair the world, and then promptly go from province to province, state to state, talking shalom – peace – with all who will listen? Wouldn’t that make more sense, knowing how the world is sagging and sobbing?
For now, keep an eye out for me, my boy and Moses as we drive by you, our heads bobbing gleefully to the music of nature and the songs only the road can offer. It’s a lifelong dream come true, one that makes me happy in very heartbreaking times.
