RV’ers are a hardy breed. I find I am addicted to their nougats of life, which are as enticing as M&M candy. Distinct and colorful on the outside, their flavor won’t melt in the handshake. They are perfect just as they are the moment I first meet them. I don’t want to know how they used to look - fatter, thinner, wearing stilettos, or a hippie in bell-bottoms. Like a kid with a fresh bag of M&Ms, I find them familiar and original at once - paunch bellies, Birkenstocks, baldheads, and all.
Most RV’ers travel in their rumbling homes on wheels with their dogs, their last dependent and most faithful of all souls, whom they love without the restraint they had felt so necessary as parents of their children or the censoring they sometimes feel as grandparents. In fact, the majority of dog owners travel with two dogs. These dogs are always different ages, sizes, and predominately different breeds. Like couples who have circled, sniffed, growled and lapped at each other for decades and have finally settled down on a common leash, these canine gypsies are happy to smell new grass and take a whiff of a new dog in town.