Monday, September 2, 2013
Monday, August 26, 2013
AUCTIONED: 1983 CHEVROLET S10 V6 BONANZA BANDIT POP-TOP MINI-MOTORHOME
Labels:
© FLTLNDR™,
2013,
BONANZA TRAVELER,
CHEVROLET BANDIT,
CLASSIFIED,
ODOMETER,
SALE,
VERMONT
Location:
Jonesville, VT 05466, USA
Thursday, August 15, 2013
Monday, August 12, 2013
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
FLOORED: 1999 BURRO 17' WIDEBODY FIBERGLASS TRAILER
Labels:
© FLTLNDR™,
2013,
BURRO TRAVEL TRAILER,
PURCHASE,
VERMONT
Location:
Berlin, VT, USA
Saturday, May 11, 2013
Thursday, May 9, 2013
PURCHASE: 1983 CHEVROLET S10 V6 BONANZA BANDIT POP-TOP MINI-MOTORHOME
Labels:
© FLTLNDR™,
2013,
BONANZA TRAVELER,
CHEVROLET BANDIT,
CLASSIFIED,
ODOMETER,
PENNSYLVANIA,
PURCHASE
Location:
Jackson, PA, USA
Sunday, May 5, 2013
Saturday, May 4, 2013
Sunday, January 13, 2013
PAUL THEROUX: MY TRAVEL WISH LIST
Paul Theroux: My Travel Wish List
From the article:
“You’ve been everywhere,” people say to me, but that’s a laugh. My wish list of places is not only long but, in many cases, blindingly obvious. Yes, I have been to Patagonia and Congo and Sikkim, but I haven’t been to the most scenic American states, never to Alaska, Montana, Idaho or the Dakotas, and I’ve had only the merest glimpse of Kansas and Iowa. I want to see them, not flying in but traveling slowly on the ground, keeping to back roads, and defying the general rule of “Never eat at a place called Mom’s, never play cards with a man called Doc ...”
Nothing to me has more excitement in it than the experience of rising early in the morning in my own house and getting into my car and driving away on a long, meandering trip through North America. Not much on earth can beat it in travel for a sense of freedom — no pat-down, no passport, no airport muddle, just revving an engine and then “Eat my dust.”
From the article:
“You’ve been everywhere,” people say to me, but that’s a laugh. My wish list of places is not only long but, in many cases, blindingly obvious. Yes, I have been to Patagonia and Congo and Sikkim, but I haven’t been to the most scenic American states, never to Alaska, Montana, Idaho or the Dakotas, and I’ve had only the merest glimpse of Kansas and Iowa. I want to see them, not flying in but traveling slowly on the ground, keeping to back roads, and defying the general rule of “Never eat at a place called Mom’s, never play cards with a man called Doc ...”
Nothing to me has more excitement in it than the experience of rising early in the morning in my own house and getting into my car and driving away on a long, meandering trip through North America. Not much on earth can beat it in travel for a sense of freedom — no pat-down, no passport, no airport muddle, just revving an engine and then “Eat my dust.”
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