While sitting in my Florida Room in front of the fireplace three days after Christmas and two days before my 68th birthday, sipping on a glass of champagne, I thought, this can’t be how it ends. There still has to be more. Several weeks earlier, I had been diagnosed with a medical condition that caused me to have to abstain from alcohol mostly. One of my favorite activities over the last few years was sitting in the Florida Room drinking champagne on Saturday nights on cool winter evenings. Now, I cannot do that anymore.
Pinellas County has become so crowded and noisy during the week. The area calms down during the weekend. Saturday night was one of the few times I could sit in the Florida room and enjoy the fireplace and champagne without hearing loud trucks, garbage trucks, motorcycles, and almost constant ambulance sirens. I’d already given up on sitting in the Florida Room during the week. Now, if I had to give up my champagne on Saturday night, I felt I had no reason to stay here anymore.
As I approach 70, I feel I am becoming invisible and thrown away by society. When you turn 60, the corporate world throws you away. When you are seventy, society throws you away. When you are 80, your family throws you away. If you are fortunate enough to make it to 90, all you will have left is God, so it is important to cultivate that relationship—just saying.
When I moved to Pinellas County in 1979, I thought I had found paradise. I moved out of the frozen north in northwest Pennsylvania to sunshine, beaches, and palm trees. A year later, I moved into the home where I had lived for 45 years. Pinellas County was a good place to live until it wasn’t. Now, like many formerly lovely places, it’s way overcrowded. Driving is difficult and dangerous. Pinellas County reminds me of an angry beehive. And the bees are hundreds of thousands of cars and trucks, all trying to sting you. Helene and Milton’s back-to-back hurricanes whacked the beaches and the coastline will take years to recover. I know it is time to leave now, but I can’t figure out where to go.
I have decided to move into my RV indefinitely until I figure out what to do. First, I am heading to Virginia for my friend Erica and Chris’s wedding. I will stay there for a while while I look for a home there. If I find a place, that may be as far as I get. If not, I may head out to Colorado or California. In 2017, I set out on my first long cross-country trip, looking for a place to move to. After four months, I got homesick and came back to Florida. If I drive to California this summer, I will again keep my eyes open for a nice place to live. I am fortunate to have a home I can take anywhere in America with me. I am not going into this all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I have spent 850 nights in a RV over the last nine years and understand how much work is involved.
Loneliness is a concern for me on this trip. When I did all those long bicycle tours from 1996 to 2014, the excitement and challenge of the tours were enough to keep me going through the loneliness. Then, the adventure wasn’t enough to motivate me to keep taking tours. The same thing has happened with the RV. At first, the challenge and excitement of the open road was enough. Like the bicycle tours, the adventure is not enough to overcome my loneliness.
This past winter, I learned several good pieces of life advice: Choose love, not hate. Nobody cares, try harder. Go outside, keep moving. I still need to do something extraordinary with my life. This is not how it ends.
Rob never give up. Sending love and hugs. 🌞🌻💛
Thank you for the warm thoughts. Yes, it’s like Clint Eastwood says,”Every day I wake up and I don’t let the old man in.”
When you come back tp Florida you’re welcome to park your RV here for a spell and help take care of the animals😁
That sounds nice, might be a challenge to navigate onto the property.
They’re probably a few trees that need to get trimmed but we used to have school buses come out on property!
That will work. I remember now. I was thinking of the other gate I came in. Very level and flat which is good. If a school bus can get in, I can. Thanks Jim.
Might need to trim a few low hanging trees but I used to have school buses out on property all the time!
Pinellas definitely changed over the years. Come see us here in Mississippi if you’re so inclined. And sparkling cider may work for Saturday nights.
Thank you for the hospitality. Yes, the Pinellas today is not the same as the place I moved to 46 years ago. I have been drinking apple and cranberry juice, I will look into sparkling cider.
Good luck on your hunt for a new home. I understand completely about Pinellas being wonderful till it wasn’t. I found out in 2017 that I could not afford to live there any longer, unless I wanted to downgrade my standard of living. Moved to Sun City Center, which was paradise with wildlife and lots of amenities. Now it’s bumper to bumper traffic with more and more building going on. I’ll still hang in there but I feel your pain. Just know you still have friends that won’t forget you, no matter your age.
Hey Rob,
You don’t know me but I found your blog through “Living With Beauty.” I’ve enjoyed reading your adventure travels and following your journey. My husband and I traveled in a similar way, beginning in 2017, and have visited a lot of the same places. Mark died three months ago and I find myself wondering if my travel adventures are ending. I know, even though it’s really hard, I could probably manage my camper set up on my own but worry about the loneliness. Not sure why I felt compelled to comment. I guess I just wanted to say a lot of us are confused about what comes next.
Mickie
Mickie,
I am sorry for your loss. It’s so hard. Yea, it’s a heck of a thing to get this far along in life and not know what you want next. I find great companionship with my cat and dog. I’m afraid if I stop and slow down, that my body will slow down too. Clint Eastwood put it best, “I just get up every morning and don’t let the old man in.” You don’t have to make any decisions right away Mickie. It’s only been 3 months, there is so much to process and grieve. In time, you will know if you want to hit the open road again.
Rob