december 17. 1999 • Just out 4g
SEE US FOR ALL
(503) 232-3600
COLLISI ON
2454 E. BURNSIDE
REP
Driven by desire
Seeking new horizons,
learning new lessons
in a home on
wheels
AUTOBODY
>
F—(
TO
PORTLAND, OR 97214
Family Owned
& Operated
Since 1952
Man's'
Best
Friend
YOUR
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l*C£T
class
«^CFESSCNA l S
A BOUTIQUE FOR DOGS
& THOSE WHO LOVE THEM.
Now offering Petsitting & Dog Walking.
Call for details about the “Howliday Inn.”
3445 SE Hawthorne Blvd., Portland, OR
In the heart of the Hawthorne District
Open Mon-Sat: 10-6 ♦ Sun: 11-5
503-230-0237
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»
.. SS
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S eason ' s G reetings
S ony C lassical L abel S ale !
We shall never cease from exploration
And the end of our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
—T.S. Eliot
each day. After she blew a tire going 55 mph
on an overpass in the center lane of a down
town Houston freeway, Betty’s ripe old age
seemed less charming and suddenly more pre
carious. Still, she made it through that and 10
other fix-its along the way. It was a proud
fter seven months, 12,000 miles, 30 states moment indeed when the odometer clicked
and one province, Amber and I are back
over to a full row of zeros: a fresh start for this
home in Portland. Our motor home
home on wheels that seems determined to keep
Betty, however, remains on the road.
on trucking.
When we started this road trip last May, we
Betty wasn’t the only one offered a fresh
didn’t have a particular quest in mind. Our
start. Amber and I abandoned our two sepa
itinerary was loose—a rough outline of the
rate, spacious residences in Portland for less
country—and our goals were similarly grand
than 60 square feet shared 24-7. Only one per
but undefined.
son in the “kitchen” at a time. Only one per
We knew only that we wanted time togeth
son in the “hall” at a time. No way out without
er, away from the daily grind of
stepping over the other.
We abandoned the autonomy of individual
deadlines and obligations. We
lives for the perpetual negotiations of an expe
knew we wanted an adventure. We
rience jointly determined in its every detail.
knew we wanted something differ
Linked to our former lives only by e-mail,
ent.
the occasional phone call and periodic general
Different, we got plenty of. We
delivery packets of bills, we pulled up our roots
visited at least 360 different bath
and every night merely paused—in 28 county
rooms, for starters. We parked
and state parks, nine National Parks and Mon
alongside pickups sporting bumper
uments, 10 National Forests, 15 commercial
stickers like “Coon Hunters for
RV
campgrounds, seven homes of friends and
Christ” outside stores with names
family, three women’s lands, one Indian reser
like Hoggly Woggly.
vation and one Kmart parking lot.
We also had more than our fair
And here’s what we didn’t expect: In every
share of adventures, each unique to
single
one of these places, we felt completely at
the regions we explored. In New
home.
England, we outran Hurricane
On the refurbished red hood of Betty’s
Floyd as it chased us up the coast
propane
cookstove, we carried a bon voyage
from Provincetown to Maine,
magnet that says “home is where the heart is.”
where we played castaways
As
little space as Betty offered, she was a place
marooned on the good ship Betty
where our hearts grew bigger.
in a campground-tumed-marina.
Very few days were constrained by “shoulds”
We got the thrill of our first alli
and
“have tos.” Our life on the road was driven
gator sighting in South Carolina. It
by desire. Curiosity and happenstance fed a
was nowhere near the size of the
growing knowledge of what we wanted, a
12-footer that flashed us a prehis
knowledge too easily obscured—for me, back
toric grin (actually a long, lazy
home—by my usual live-to-work routine.
yawn) in Florida’s Corkscrew
The routine of life in Betty was anchored by
Swamp. But that first one, the four
simple things: three cooked meals a day, naps
telltale bumps of its eyeballs and
when we needed them, chores kept pleasant by
snout only two yards away from our
their manageable scale.
kayak, told us for sure that we were
I had to go on the road to discover the plea
not in Kansas anymore.
sures of domesticity.
In Texas, we turned our backs
Bf
Portland will always be my home. But we’re
on the Lone Star landscape of
H0I1Ï
not ready to say gixxlbye to life in Betty. As we
George W. Bush and instead
celebrate
rhe holidays here in the rain, Betty is
Num
sashayed down to the gay rodeo.
basking in the Southwest sun, awaiting our
There’s nothing like watching lots
return for phase two of the adventure.
of big hunky cowboys tenderly two stepping
with each other—and the next morning
■ HOLLY P ruett is at home in Portland—for a
wrestling bulls to the ground—to make you
while at least. Destination suggestions for her fur
whip out your rainbow flag.
ther travels can be e-mailed to hjpruett@aol .com.
Then there was the adventure inherent in
coaxing 27-year-old Betty out onto the road
A
Lrj
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