I’ve been fascinated by recreational vehicles ever since I was a child. It began on a trip to Florida with my parents and a favorite cousin. En route to our destination, we stopped at a motel with no vacancy except a travel trailer.

Upon leaving the next morning, my daddy commented that he might just build us a trailer one day. He never did, but that overnight experience in that compact substitute for a motel room set me to dreaming.

Years later, my husband rented a pop-up camper for trips to a Tennessee state park with our children. Another time, we tent-camped at a Florida state park. Tent camping didn’t meet my expectations — it just made me tired. It rained sporadically and we spent a lot of time hauling stuff inside the tent and putting it back outside when the showers stopped.

Through the years, my dream resurfaced now and then, but it was when we moved to Lillian that I really felt the tug. There were so many folks with RVs in that community. My husband got the fever, too, and one day in the early 1980s, we became proud owners of a well-traveled silver 1964 Airstream trailer. It was light enough that we towed it with a car for a short time. Then we purchased another much-traveled vehicle, a truck with an Alaskan camper attached. We found out in an overnight trip to Gulf State Park that the Alaskan camper was not for us. Too cramped. After that, it just sat up on the truck while the Airstream plodded along behind.

I’ll never forget our first trip with the Airstream. As we rolled down the highway, it seemed like a dream to me. It didn’t even bother us when we parked among shiny, elegant motor homes as long as Greyhound buses. Nor did it insult us when people stopped and questioned us about our aging trailer — we even let them stick their heads in and take a look.

On our maiden voyage, we arrived at our site with electric cords and sewer hose that were too short. During that same trip, water from the kitchen sink and bathroom lavatory backed up into the bathtub. Yuk!

My husband once emerged with singed eyebrows when he lit the oven for me. If we forgot and plugged in more than one appliance at a time, we blew a fuse. One time we drove a short distance out of a campground with our steps still extended. Another time, a camper flagged us down as we began to roll out of a campground with our TV antenna still up.

Despite those frustrations and others, I still found joy rolling down the road with our several trailers and finally a motor home, visiting favorite campgrounds, reuniting with old friends and making new ones. And to this day, my fascination for a “rolling home away from home” continues.