The Challenges Surrounding Romance

The Facebook/Instagram/Youtube generation has definitely done something clear to our thought processes: The exposure to experiences and lifestyles less common were usually reserved for celebrities and wacky reality TV shows; carefully curating some idyllic presentation or exaggerated struggle. Today, anyone with some money and a dreams can make money by selling you their dreams.

Do I sound cynical? Yeah, I probably do.

Rarely does anyone go out of their way to explore the realities of what they’re doing. Troubles are the footnote of an over-HDR-edited photo posted on Instagram, the almost sarcastic #sponsored hashtag hanging just underneath.

Here is the reality of what we’re doing.

THIS IS HARD.

Let me be clear in saying that it isn’t that I want sympathy, we chose this lifestyle and the hardships that come with it. But it’s hard to want to be honest about the negatives when someone is sponsoring you. I get it. Everything about what we’ve done so far has been pretty difficult. Lifestyle changes, forcing 3 cats to commit to our little sardine can, and constant issues stemming from the age and rebuild of our beloved Sunbadges. We haven’t had running water for almost 2 and a half weeks (I think we’ve got this solved finally, but I thought we had it solved last time and one of our pipes actually exploded). Our solar generator failed and stopped accepting solar power and is no longer acting as an inverter, forcing us to buy new replacement equipment as we slowly diagnose the issues, possibly ending in the loss of our shore power capabilities to restore a full-solar power system. Radio Shack doesn’t exist anymore, not the way it used to. The paths we stay on are rarely paved so I’ve laid my motorcycle down, nearly going over the handle bars. I am constantly dirty. Sometimes muddy. And being allergic to most forms of insect bites, I’m still covered from the neck down in mosquito bites. At least I hope they’re mosquito bites. shudder

And you know what? Driving a 20,000 pound vehicle is tiring. I can’t believe that there are people that do this professionally day in and day out. And I don’t know what the deal is with passenger cars but I swear you people are on a suicide mission.

Still, it’s only been a couple of weeks and the views and experiences have been incredible. Nothing short of incredible. Sometimes breathtaking. Immediately, my appreciation for this country is always on the tip of my tongue. South Dakota always got that bad rap coming from Minnesotans who easily dismissed the mantle of nothingness presented at the forefront of their civilization: Sioux Falls. And undeserved bad rap, mind you. The people were so pleasant that my sweet tooth panged in response. Western South Dakota is immense and gorgeous. I was stunned by regret that I’d never gone further than Sioux Falls with all of that beautiful countryside available to me.

We found Mount Rushmore. We threaded the Needles Highway. We saw a bison so close up on the side of the road that I’m pretty sure I know his name. Charles, I think. He prefers Sir Charles. Don’t call him Chuck, he does a tongue thing. Custer State Park was so beautiful that we visited twice. I can’t bring myself to remove the tag the park officials placed on my bike to prove that I paid. We attended Sturgis. We slept a week cliffside of the Badlands, the Milky Way almost visible over light pollution at the darkest of night.

Life on the road is hard but we rediscovered the reason we’re were doing this in the first place and the reason we’re going to continue. In internet tradition, here are some photos, this time sans overblown HDR.

-Sisko Out

The Selfie Stick

A couple reviews a photo a man took of himself with a selfie stick, while his partner looked on.

Mount Rushmore

In my eyes, appreciation of this landmark comes with the people, not devoid of them.

Sisko at Sturgis

We stumbled upon Strugis on accident. The people were incredibly friendly, considering the reputation.

Adventure Cat

A couple poses with photos with their leashed cat on a cliff, near a steep drop off on the Needles Highway

Threading the Needle

You never go alone but it’s clear that cars (and buses) ruin everything.

The $25 Pork Chop

Yes, I ate it all. Yes, I ate it with the plastic silverware.

What You Leave Behind

It’s not a secret anymore that Jakki and I have taken to the road for an indefinite period of time. Years of planning have finally come to fruition and we’ve left what for years we’ve considered home. We’ve built a new home inside of someone else’s old home and stuffed it full of our things.

The balance of leaving home in your home is strangely comforting in the shuffle of the things we’ve changed about our lives. Our living space is a permanently messy desk, we’re constantly straining to fix the newest problem with something we’d thought we’d fixed years ago, and the only truly permanently dedicate space is a holding area. I am always dirty somehow.

But the list of accomplishments as I look back is staggering: We’ve stripped the innards of our new home and painted it. We’ve removed nearly all of the flooring and replaced or refurbished it. We’ve added our own furniture. We’ve changed all of the fixtures to LED lights to save battery power. We’ve installed a Solar Power solution to reduce our dependence on gasoline for the creature comforts.

And it will be two Solar Power solutions, soon. And we’re adding a local cellular signal booster. I’m determined to boost the power to that damned speaker solution we installed in the bedroom so we can collapse and watch an episode of Parks and Rec without straining to hear the audio from an iPad. I’ll get that bathroom sink drain solved soon, damn it. The list of wants and needs continues on as indefinitely as our trip.

There’s an old adage referring to the foolishness of saving money without an end result. “You can’t take it with you” is a mantra that’s been used to shame the miserly for centuries and now it applies in a completely different manner. There is so much we had to dispose of or sell or give away to fit our previously comfortable lives into a very limited space. Ironically, some things we had to buy as more compact or efficient versions of the things we’d previously enjoyed.

There’s no replacing you, though. You know who you are.

When we were finally planning The Launch of Sunbadges, our noble Mobile Home, we knew it would be important to say goodbye the best way we could. We also knew it would be impossible to keep our schedule if our dearest friends knew our departure was impending, so we planned a very public party with a very deep secret. And we said, “We’ll see you when we see you” to our friends, possibly for the last time ever.

We’re so lucky to have the friends we’ve had all these years. I’ve called Minnesota my “home” for almost a quarter of a century and the place itself hasn’t had much meaning to me, but the people have. I will dearly miss them.

Being able to miss someone is an incredible gift, you see. We were friends because you were special to me, and to have my heart broken because you’re no longer just a phone call and a short drive away means what we’ve had or done together was irreplaceable. Through the lens of retrospect, it’s always easy to wish you’d had more time together but I think it’s better to remember what the times we’ve had. Your life will always be filled with both of those types of friendships. Regardless of which we’ve had, it was magnificent.

Of course it was. You were there.