Anyone who follows my blog or is my Facebook Fan or Friend has seen photos of my adorable RV—her name is “The BookMobile.” I use her for my various road and writing trips. She is an older vehicle, bought as a bargain.

Three years later she is once again in the shop. I am officially changing her name to “The Black Hole.” Every time I think there can’t possibly be anything left to break, there we are, back at the repair shop in town. Or the repair shop in Salt Lake City. Or the repair shop in Victorville. Or Santa Fe. Or in a town so small I can’t remember the name.

And each time I have a tantrum or a melt down and I vow this is it. The last trip. I’m never going to go through this again. But then, just like childbirth, the sentiments fade, the good times overshadow the bad times and I pack up and set off.

We have put so much into her now we can’t possible give her up. Right? Or do we say enough is enough, pass her along and get something else? 

I dream of a four wheel drive monster van that can take me on all those back roads. Like the geology tour in Joshua Tree National Park. Or the gravel roads that thread off the plains of Colorado up between the snowy peaks, a tiny brown sign indicating a camping area fifteen miles ahead.

Then I remind myself that the van would break too.

But the deeper emotion, the real reason I will continue to hand my credit card to the repair shop owners, is the innate, over-learned, childhood value that says giving up is not acceptable.

Quitters are losers.

Reflection on this concept causes confusion. When is it quitting and when is it simply cutting my losses? Will I continue until death doing something over and over because I grew up and lived all these years with this (whatever it happens to be) as an internal value?

Change is good. And maybe there are times when it isn’t quitting or giving up. Maybe there are times when it is simply taking on a new perspective. It feels good to take a step back and re-examine something with an open mind. I was at a retreat last month where I learned the concept of “laying something down,” which to me meant taking the burden off your shoulders and setting it off to one side or out in front or behind where you could still see it. But from a different viewpoint. A viewpoint that didn’t carry so much weight.

And that is how I’m trying to live now. Without my internal judge. With a fresh eye.

So, you ask….(if you read this far)….what is your point?

Hmmm….I think I love the RV. I think I need to work on accepting that each trip will include an adventure to the next repair shop and just build it into my itinerary.