... with a Prognosis of continued and incurable convoluted contortions and compounding genetic Psychosis.
I'd begun to think that I, as a shining example of genuine Heroric RV Boondocking masculinity, was beginning to suffer from some sort of early onset dementia and confusion.
There's been an alarming set of symptoms recurring with increasing rapidity...
At first light each morning, I wake with visions of duplicating the minimalist, "cereal box with a pop top" home on wheels of the Box Canyon Bloggers.
As the sun rises toward noon however, the designs swell to a pickup with a built on Motorcycle garage, housing both a solo and a two up touring motorcycle pulling a toybox trailer with a customized classic Volkswagen "Thing" safely corralled inside.
By five in the afternoon the drawings take on a remarkably close resemblance to a fortyfive foot Diesel pusher with four slides accessorized with a hot tub and fold down, elevated deck; Dragging a Cadillac Escalade loaded with double Kayaks and two racing mountain bicycles.
Only... to retreat back to the pop top cereal box, by bed time.
The relentless, near daily, repetition of these mental gyrations was beginning to cause considerable alarm and consternation amongst the few remaining working neurons still resident within my crusty brain pan.
I live with the sure knowledge that I've employed my cranial appendage as a protective bumper, far too many times, during episodes of unexpected dislodgement from cantankerous equine transportation.
While my purpose of attempting to prevent traumatic damage to vital pieces and parts of cowboy anatomy, from a too rapid convergence with the rocky topography of sunny slopes was admirable; I'd begun to have worrisome thoughts of excessive brain damage being the logical consequence of a possibly incomplete strategy.
Now, our current neighbor/"camp" host has a couple of dogs. It was while observing those pups, and contemplating my place in the universe, that the Diagnostic RVer Epiphany impacted me with considerable force.
You see. I have discovered that my brain damage may be considerably less than first thought!
No sir! All that bumpin din do enee hawm ta mee a awl!
The truth of the matter is, A Gypsy Biker Cowboy is just and only the natural, genetic, hyper active Human Relative of a Border Collie.
What other people might see as indecisive, fickle, waffling, or some sort of attention deficit disorder is really just natural, normal, Human, Border Collie-ism.
That's why we have to keep moving. It is the genesis of our wandering ways. Ever watch a Border Collie? They can't sit still for too long. If they've nothing to do... they FIND SOMETHING... and... what they find isn't necessarily a good thing! :)
If we suffer the enforced prohibition of yondering for too long a time, the native border collie mentality takes over. If there is no movement, we will cause movement. Good bad or indifferent, there WILL BE MOVEMENT by God!
If the only thing that will move... is a bad thing to move.... It don't make no difference! I'm movin' that sucker! Gotta make it move!
gotta go gotta go gotta chase the ball, throw the ball, I'll go get it, throw it again! Do it Now! Throw it! I'll get it. run in circles, bark twice. I'm back, did you throw the ball? should I carry the shoe until you throw the ball? Huh Huh Huh? what? didn't hear me. I'll ask again. Throw the ball Ok. I'll go get it. bing bing BINGGGGG! riqochet rabbit! bouncing off the wall, nervous energy tee total Psycho!!!
So... The point is... ever' time I've a lil' too much "Down Time"... I get to doodling how I could move this, change that, rebuild the whatever, while I remodel the whoosywhatsis, and renovate the cheese whiz!
Now I know... Though there is no cure, there is a functional treatment... fill the tank, press my foot down on the pedal on the right... and wear some rubber off the tires! :)
Psycho Yondering Boondocker In Colorado
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