Old leather boots and big tin buckets


I fell in love with an old leather boot a few years back.

She was brown and worn, with a fox red trim around the top and spots worn from weather and wear over three decades. She shook when she moved and sometimes needed a break on a long, hot day, but when you needed her in a pinch, she never once proved a let down.

Sexy and a little bit dirty, that old brown boot was our 1978 Champaign edition Volkswagen Bus. I assure you, the title is prettier than the vehicle, but I have never lived a more beautiful way.

Years came to pass and one child turned into three, young lovers became a family of six (including our not quite yet “granny”, Nanny). It was time to evolve if we wanted to continue on down the road.

So we purchased a big ol’ pile of tin bucket. Looking back, we could have bought a newer, shinier one. One that didn’t have quite so many holes. One not so tarnished by the stains of time and travel.

But in the end, the boat I loved was a bucket.

And that’s how I see her, our ’76 Sovereign of the Road. She’s more than an Airstream, so much more than a travel trailer. She’s cozy, like hot chocolate on a snow day, and strong, like whisky in a morning coffee. She is our little bucket, floating on down the road without power of her own, holding tight us and ours, assuring that upon arrival, we’ll have a place to call safe and a house to make home.

As long as we give her the proper amount of loving care, that is. Just like a boot needs a willing foot to trudge onward, every bucket can tip, but none do with a constant helping hand.