Most nights we “camped” in Kampground of America campgrounds. Although we packed a tent, we never pitched it, opting to pay a little extra for a locked cabin with bunk-beds, making reservations by phone on the day of our arrival. We were awed by the number of RV’s on the road; they seemed as ubiquitous as TV-households. Mammoth roadside crosses and billboards proclaiming the coming rapture straddled the main highways everywhere. As far as we could tell, we were left behind. We didn’t listen to the radio and only read headlines most days. Most things stayed the same outside our little white cocoon, except for a Weiner in Queens.
We made California in time for the wedding and settled into a rented house for a week to reunite with my husband and son. As I write this our trip continues, now almost a month into my wanderlust and still seeking.