The author of this blog is having fun. How? Why living in a truck, of course! I am historically addicted to living on the road. When not in a vehicle of my own I traveled extensively with a back pack.
I started off traveling by land in a Ford Bronco in 1968. With a tent. With a winch on front, new fuel filter, and cooking gear in the back, a box of tools, a box of kitchen equipment and some clothes. A husband and two French hitchhikers. To Bolivia. And back. 1 year’s worth of excitement and discovery.
Next came an old pickup with an aluminum topper, living in Mexico and Costa Rica for several years, by myself. Two chairs to confuse people. The most comfortable. The safest feeling. It was a horrible body with a brand new engine and low, low 4wd. I called her “The Big Blue Fart”. We went through jungles and cities with the greatest of ease.
Then came fancy and with a class-too-small rv called “Chela”. Chela and I toured the USA for two years. Blown brakes, leaky this and leaky that, never a comfortable ambiance. She always stood out. She was grossly under powered. Grossly under pinned (shocks, wheels, bearings). But she kept me dry and warm. And I learned much about travel in the USA.
Next was a VW bus to canoe swamps and rice fields and Okefenokee and the Everglades. Was fine ’til the engine caught on fire. I loved the ability to carry the canoe. Never had a great deal of trust in this vehicle. Never even had a name.
Then the dually, which turned into a great 4wd camper, adding only a few pvc poles and some tarps. Her name was Boadicea. I knew and loved this truck. She had a willing heart and fierce elegance… and an easy engine to work on. Lots of room under the hood.