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“I’d love to do that someday.”

That’s the most common response that I get from people when they comment on our RV trip. I’ve gotten it consistently – more than any other response – ever since we started planning back in January. And it’s always troubled me. In fact, it’s what compelled me to snap this photo at one of the Montana RV parks we stayed at:

Someday needs to be now. Otherwise, it just might never come. Here’s a recent example:

Like my dad, my mom really helped us prepare for our trip and in doing so caught the RV bug. In fact, she and my dad had recently gone RV shopping to start researching their options. There was even talk about them buying our RV if Amy and I ever upgraded to a bigger rig. With retirement just around the corner for my dad, I was anticipating some cool memories and sharing the RV lifestyle with my parents someday soon.

Well, that’s one ‘someday’ that will never happen. I can’t help but wonder how many of the ‘somedays’ I hear from others will never happen either. And that is what troubles me.

Let me be clear: I’m not even talking about RV trips anymore. I’m talking about whatever it is you dream of doing but have been putting off for ‘someday.’

‘Someday’ is a disease that will take your dreams to the grave with you. So take that trip. Start that business. Get that degree. Write that book. Quit that habit. Start the exercising. Learn that language or instrument. Mend that relationship. Quit that job you hate. Whatever it is, take that plunge and make it happen.

Two months on the road with my family showed me how beautiful life is. Losing my dad before he saw retirement showed me that it’s too damn short. Stop waiting for ‘someday.’

We fly from Indy to Tacoma Washington to reunite with the RV on October 4th. The journey continues…

Talk about recalculating one’s route.

We’ve been in Indy all week preparing for a funeral, and today we buried my dad. Because this relates so closely to our RV adventure, and as a tribute to my father, I am posting a blurb I wrote and had read at his funeral:

I’ve heard of people, when they lose a loved one suddenly and unexpectedly, regret not spending more time together, and wish they had gotten to say goodbye. Not me. I got to spend more time. I got to say goodbye.

You see, just a couple months ago, my family and I were in the final stages of preparing for an epic adventure, taking life on the road in an RV for a year. Despite our best planning efforts, though, various scheduling challenges resulted in my family and me moving in with my parents for our final 2 weeks in Indianapolis.

We loved sharing the normal, day-to-day activities, like knowing my mom and dad’s appointments, eating meals together, morning greetings and goodnight kisses. Living in their space meant truly living life together, something we valued at the time but cherish even more so now.

There was work to do, however, if we were to leave by our target departure date. Fortunately, my dad was THE project guy. Working with him on the RV in the evenings and on the weekends brought back memories of building go-carts and model airplanes. We cheered when we linked our tow car’s taillights with the RV’s, we high-fived when the supplemental breaks finally worked, and we sipped beers after concluding that the daunting inverter installation just wasn’t “mission critical.”

It was hard work, but we did it. We did it together. And like the thousands of projects before, my dad took satisfaction in a job well done. We finished everything in time for our original departure date, but we decided to take an extra day and spend one last, un-rushed night with my mom and dad.

Then on the morning of June 14th, after everything was loaded and all systems were a ‘go,’ my dad huddled us together by the RV and said a prayer for our safe travels. I was surprised at how emotional of a moment this was, but it seemed fitting and I welcomed such a rare and tender moment with my dad. Then he gave me a big embrace, and we exchanged what would be our final face-to-face words: “I love you, son.” “I love you too, dad.”

I would have happily taken a few more calls and texts from my dad in the weeks that followed. But I take so much comfort in how I spent the last 2 weeks in town with him.

I got to spend more time.

I got to say goodbye.

Dad, you showed me what it means to be a man, a professional, a husband, and a father. You will be my example for as long as I live. I am who I am because of you, and I will miss you very, very much.

We’ll be here in Indy with my mom for as long as necessary…there’s a lot to take care of. The RV and the car are in storage in Tacoma Washington, so when we’re ready, we’ll be flying back out there to resume the trip.

Great week; we finally reached the ocean. This is my family literally running to the water as soon as we arrived:

Our campground was not exactly high class (I saw one trailer with a plywood door), but it had a good feel to it.

Had a couple windshield chips fixed this week:

I had a pretty busy work week, so the only side-trip I went on was to the Tillamook cheese factory a few miles away:

After trying some samples, we had to get some Tillamook cheese for ourselves. Especially their “squeaky cheese”…that stuff will change your life.

It was cold and windy most of the time on the beach, but still quite beautiful.

Friday night we took a final walk at sunset.

Emily and I walked out on this long jetty to see the fog horn that we had been hearing all week. It was sort of eerie, this odd piece of equipment connected to a battery pack, a quarter of a mile out from shore, emitting a very loud tone every 30 seconds.

I half expected to hear a message in French playing in a continuous loop. (LOST reference 🙂

The next morning Amy and I drug everyone out of bed for a walk on the beach.

Emily and Natalie collect shells and crab carcasses, and Carrie found a starfish.

Speaking of starfish, there were tons of them stuck to the rocks of the jetty, along with mussels, anemones and barnacles. It’s cool all the stuff you find at low tide.

After all that, we hit the road and drove along the Oregon coast.

We stopped at a little farmers market to pick up some fruit and such.

Our official destination for the day was Fort Clatsop, which was where Lewis and Clark wintered before their return trip across the continent.

Having been immersed in Lewis and Clark history for the last month and a half, I thought it was a pretty cool place. This guy did a musket demonstration, which was also pretty cool:

(For any of my family reading this, we had to get our picture taken with the musket guy. He could have been Uncle Emil’s twin. His sense of humor, his mannerisms, and his engaging storytelling voice was so much like Emil’s. You would have loved him.)

At the end of the day, we picked a random campground to stay for the night. Don’t let these Las Vegas-esque lights fool you…it was a very forgettable campground. We were happy to leave first thing this morning.

We just made it to Forks, Washington, which is apparently where they filmed the Twilight movies.  Seriously, here are their trucks:

Now we’re trying to find a place to stay for the week. Our intended destination has no internet.

The girls and I took a great side trip yesterday afternoon to Hug Point. We found sea caves that can be explored only during low tides.

According to the girls, the caves smelled bad but they were full of cool mussels and anemones.

I can’t recall a July where I was wearing jeans and a hoodie, standing over a campfire to keep warm.

Dear Coleman Corp,

My new $45 chimney grill worked great until it melted. We got to use it maybe 6 times.  Seriously, the heat from the charcoal melted the supports in the middle that hold up the grates.

This was the beach at mid-day today. Now I know where all that happy grunge music came from! 🙂

It’s overcast and chilly, but the Arnolds have reached the Pacific!

We made it to Oregon today. This is the view of our camping spot (more on this in a second):

Last weekend before leaving Idaho, we stopped at the Nez Perce National Historic Park and learned about yet another native American tribe screwed over by the burgeoning U.S. government. (Seriously, the history of how the west was won is sad.) Anyway, it has struck both Amy and me how relaxed and happy these state and national park people seem to be. Seeing this park ranger on her lunch break, it’s no wonder why:

Later that day, we made our way to the campground where we stayed all week; Hood Park in Burbank, WA. Great place, and the price was right: only $22/night on the weekend and $11/night during the week!

The sunsets were intense. Long shadows against golf-course-like lawns. (Sprinklers were going constantly during the day. I think it’s a fire-prevention thing, but it seemed pretty neurotic.)

No crazy side trips this week…just a nice non-eventful week.

Although, Amy felt my appearance was devolving from “avant-garde woodsman” to “degenerate castaway” so it was time for a shave and haircut for the first time in over a month. Speaking of firsts, I went to an actual professional for the first time in 20 years:

I didn’t like it. Not only did he not have the tender touch of Amy, he left a few stray hairs unshorn. For $10, I expected head-shaving perfection.

We left Burbank today and crossed into Oregon, following the Columbia river pretty much the whole day. We stopped at Ainsworth State Park in Corbett, Oregon but all of the spots were full.

This very helpful park ranger let us park in his parking spot for a couple hours to see if anything opened up.

While we waited, we visited a few cool waterfalls nearby.

No campsites opened up, but they let us stay in the parking spot, which we were very grateful for.

Tomorrow we plan on making it to the coast…I’m pretty excited about that. Also, we will be going through a town called “Idiotville.” Could the name of this town have anything to do with gas stations in Oregon not allowing customers to pump their own gas?

First campfire of the trip. I’m not sure why Natalie is digging a hole.