When the pandemic hit, city life closed in on us. I was worried about getting sick and the walls felt too close, so we did the simple thing that felt brave at the time. We climbed into the truck and drove. I had two weeks of medication, which set the clock for the adventure. We wandered through Ohio, western Pennsylvania, Virginia, and then Tennessee, paused in Gatlinburg for a few days, and pointed the nose toward Nashville for one last stop before heading home. We did not leave intending to shop for an RV. What happened next just happened.
Somewhere along I-40 we saw a sign for Lazy Dayz, looked at each other, and turned around on impulse. We walked in and politely asked for their best salesperson. He listened to our side comments more than our formal wish list, ferried us by golf cart, and after a few near misses waved us into a different unit. The second we stepped inside, we knew.
On May 12, 2020, we said yes to the travel trailer we now call Jesse. Paperwork and practicalities followed, along with the usual setup pieces like a hitch, sway bars, weight distribution, and a brake controller. We also needed to find somewhere to get the brake controller installed, that took a minute to find but we did. We stayed at the hotel next door while we finished everything. The staff were lovely and even sent us to a local shop for a custom memory foam mattress because RV mattresses are famously thin.
Then came the part no one writes brochures about. We drove Jesse home to Ohio, parked in a monthly site, and spent the first four months loading, downsizing, and working around my medical appointments. I live with a laundry list of health issues, and some days my body simply does not cooperate. I am grateful for my partner who keeps things running when I cannot; he has steady hands and calm troubleshooting, and I could not do this without him.
Early on I learned to respect the steps. One afternoon I stepped wrong coming down the outside stairs, twisted my knee and fractured my ankle in two places. The ER took good care of me. The next day we were rear-ended, and I ended up back in the same ER with the same nurse. She joked about wrapping me in bubble wrap. I laughed because it beat crying. Those weeks slowed us down, but they also reminded me to pace this life carefully.
By September we were finally ready to roll. We left town, only to make a quick overnight back for the dog’s vet visit and a few last doctor appointments. Then we headed east, set up outside Pittsburgh to visit family, and planned our next hop to Milton, Pennsylvania, to have a cap installed on the truck. The cap gave us a safe, dry place for tools, our extra water tank, and the generator, things too big or too messy to ride inside the rig.
That stretch also taught us one of our favorite travel rules. Keep the driving days short. A three-hour car drive easily becomes four with a rig, and pushing past that is more stress than it is worth. We would rather arrive with enough energy to breathe, level, and make dinner than roll in exhausted. Sometimes we take the long way around because a direct road is too narrow or unfriendly to trailers. Slower is safer, and safer makes the whole trip feel easier.
Those early months were a mix of small wins and steady learning. We figured out what we actually use and what we could let go. We set the coffee maker where it could tuck into the sink on travel mornings. We found homes for everyday things so pack up became a pattern, not a scramble. We learned which windows to open for the best breeze and which shade to lift when I needed a view from bed on a rough day. It was not glamorous, but it felt like building a life we could carry.
Over five years in, we are still in our Grand Design Imagine 2970RL, and we still love it. Jesse has been exactly what we hoped for when we spun around on I-40 and said yes. Our needs have shifted as our days have filled with new work, and there are times when a toy hauler or a bunkhouse sounds perfect so the leather shop and office could live in a separate garage space. Maybe one day we will upgrade. If we do, I suspect we will stay with Grand Design. The must haves that mattered on that first golf cart ride still matter now.
Looking back, the start of our travels was not a plan. It was a string of small yeses shaped by health, timing, and grace. Yes, to leaving the city when it felt too tight. Yes, to turning around for a dealership we had heard of. Yes, to learning the hard lessons, like watching your steps and keeping the drives short. And yes, to the steady help of a partner who fixes what breaks and lifts what I cannot. Somewhere between May and September, between doctor visits and first campsites, the road stopped being a question and became home.