The open road can be the devil's playground when it comes to desiring the impractical. Something about traveling creates time and space in my brain for wild wishes, and the return road trip home from Austin was no exception.
"I wish we had a Winnebago. Well, maybe something smaller, like a cross between a Winnebago and a Westfalia-- most of the creature comforts but still small enough to navigate through town," I said, and even I was surprised by the urgency of my tone.
It sounded like we needed to buy one that evening, if not sooner.
Russ remained unruffled, his gaze never leaving the road, hands upon the steering wheel still relaxed. "The trouble with those things is that you have to take 'em with you everywhere. To the grocery store. To the mini-golf course..."
"True. But on the bright side, you could unpack your groceries right there in the supermarket parking lot."
We drove in silence for several miles.
"The only way I'd own a Winnebago," Russ said, immediately harnessing my attention, "is if we had a couple of Vespas, too. Vespas with trunks or saddlebags... you know, big enough to hold a bag of chips."
I couldn't believe that he was actually considering it! I was closer to making this fantasy a reality than I'd ever imagined. There was just one tiny detail that needed clarification before I could start officially planning.
"So... you're saying that if the Vespas couldn't transport potato chips, you're not interested in owning the Winnebago?"
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