I’ve found The One.
It’s taken years of searching and longing, numerous near misses and countless emotional highs and lows but yesterday I finally took a deep breath and committed.
The One is strong, lean, adventurous and has a name that promises off piste excitement and adventure. How could anyone resist a “Jazz Champagne” model in the colour of pale biscuity bubbles? Clearly not me.
It has impractical creamy leather seats, an awning for the Scottish rain, fly screens for midges, charcoal grey carpets to disguise muddy footprints and a multipurpose desk/dining table/bed which will surely become faster to manipulate as time goes by.
The fog lights, cruise control and reversing sensors are bound to be useful too. There’s a proper kitchen and a tiny washroom with minimal storage for moisturisers and shampoo. Engine? Er… Peugeot. Four wheels and probably a spare somewhere.
As with any partner the practical considerations and reliability will ultimately prove more important than initial impressions and outward appearances. But you have to fall in love first.
I’m picking in up in 10 days time.
Maybe it’s the longer light that’s fuelling the urge.
It’s been particularly strong in the last couple of days. I’ve spent hours online researching the options and poring over specialist magazines, then at night I dream of the wild sites I’ll park in, the prospect of a home and the freedom to roam.
I’ve narrowed the styles down. Again. And tomorrow I’m going to do something about it. Yes, again. My long-suffering friend is coming with me. OK, yet again. But he’s refusing to return to the showrooms we’ve already spent days trawling through, trying the patience of salesmen, asking questions, wearing out the locks on drawers and cupboards and making permanent dents in the upholstery. Well, you need to be sure, don’t you?
Tomorrow it’s somewhere new, with styles I haven’t seen before. I’m so excited I may not sleep tonight.
Campervan, motorhome, RV; no vehicle escapes my attention. Out on the roads I’ve crawled behind the models I’m interested in for mile after mile, holding up the traffic (and often going in a direction I hadn’t intended) while I wonder how it would feel to be driving that machine, what my options would be for an overnight stop and if it’s really as good as camping. I need a home for a while but it has to be small and not too clumsy because it’ll also take the place of my dear little car and permanently packed tent.
As I walked back from the beach in the dark yesterday afternoon I saw a vehicle swing round the harbour and park up at an angle to get the best view of hills and sea and moon. It’s bigger than the van conversion style I want but it was enough to convince me that it’s still an option in January. In Scotland.
The problem is that (until now, at least) common sense kicks in before I sign the cheque and reminds me that I’d be parting with a substantial chunk of my limited resources. I don’t want an old one that’s going to cause me problems so I’m looking at new or almost new. Today’s favoured model is Globecar but I can’t predict what it’ll be after tomorrow.
I wonder if Camper Envy is a medical condition?