So, the tiny house started to not be so tiny by the beginning of the week. As you may remember we had a few days of tight adjustment and it would seem as if things might not go as the perfect life we had planned but with a little patience we started to fall in line. One thing that got worse as the week went on was the dog’s fat ass and her self-righteous sleeping position. Most mornings I woke up with my legs hanging over one side of the bed, totally numb, while the dog was sprawled out in the middle. Poor Heather was usually crammed up against the wall on the other side and as I would struggle to stand while the blood made it back into my legs, the dog actually would get pissed that I was disturbing her.
No matter though, the Panhead was running, a little rough but good enough to make it around to see my boys and get some kicks. Oh, and Lord God we thank you for the bountiful water that now flows throughout our tiny house. And get this, with one small adjustment, some of it was even hot, well at least for ten minutes or so at a time. As the week progressed we had everything we needed here, clean bums, coffee, place to crash, heat, which if you were in Daytona before Wednesday you know was a life saver. All in all, it was a step up from most of the rat holes I’ve stayed in traveling alone and with Heather now making the best of it for both of us, it was getting cool.
Without a doubt, the best part of everyday were the visits from friends. We didn’t give our address out to everyone but some of the rally family knew where to find us, some like my native brother Buck used his keen tracking skills to spot the 24-foot white sprinter van with the skull and dropped in. Each of them brought great company and made me realize that having a home base meant we could get the best from each day, simply by having time to spend… over coffee…. Over lunch…. Or fixing an old pan head.
Before we knew it the Daytona crowd roared out of town as fast as they poured in and much to my surprise, having also been a quick splitter in the past, we were left with the company of few, but the best. The last couple of nights in Daytona we found time to spend with our industry family and friends, riding, eating and just slowing down for a bit. This part of the tiny house advantage was exactly what I was hoping for. Still, the ever present need to hit the road was calling so on the final day we did the business of breaking down the camp, loading up the pack and starting to make our way north. It was on to the Donnie Smith Show from here and with each passing mile the thermometer outside dropped a degree or two. But that will have to be where we start in the next installment of the “Tiny House Chronicles.
Look out St. Paul. Here we come!