Cross-country in silver

My friend Jeff and his wife Koren are currently somewhere in Texas (Austin last I knew, though that was a few days ago), halfway or so through their cross-country journey via Airstream.

I am nothing if not exceedingly jealous.

Koren sends dispatches from the road, and Jeff writes and records songs. Their travelogues are full of tales of 100+ degree days, cocktails on their front 'lawn' (read: the piece of Astroturf they lay down in front of their trailer), meals with the people they meet in the trailer parks where they've stopped (including a man Koren swears up and down was Santa Claus), and visits to local cultural sites, including such attractions as the International Space Hall of Fame and the Toy Train Depot. I've been sitting in my hermetically sealed office, reading these stories, and bubbling with envy.

There are, of course, the things I'm not exactly envious of, foremost among them the realities of cooking, sleeping, and otherwise living in a 22-foot-long trailer (Airstream though it may be). Jeff has recorded a song called "Black Tank", which Koren explains thus:

'For those of you who don’t know, the trailer has a fresh tank (fresh water), gray tank (dirty sink water), and black tank (self-explanatory).'

(Keep emptying the black tank, indeed.)

But still, portable waste water, small space, and soaring heat aside, I want to be out there, too.