I mentioned wasting time playing a computer game called 2048 in my last post. It’s a matching game. The game has a board with 16 squares. It opens with two numbered tiles, numbered two or four. Every time you move a tile, another number two or four tile appears. Put two twos together and you get a four tile. Put two fours together, you get an eight tile and so on. The idea is to reach the number 2048 before the 16 squares are gridlocked with tiles. It’s challenging. I worked on a system and kept getting close – I would usually reach 1024 before I got locked out. Yesterday, I finally hit the magic number.

Bingo!

After I hit the winning number, I went out for a bicycle ride. I rode through Crown Point to Pacific Beach, where I stopped at Seňor Pancho for a plate of five rolled tacos with guacamole. Seňor Pancho is on Mission Boulevard on the northwest corner at Hornblend. It used to be a Der Weinerschnitzel when I was growing up in the area.

On the way back to the Mission Bay RV Resort, I stopped to watch sailboats on the bay.

Identical sailboats racing each other across the bay

I’ve joked many times about how every day is Saturday. The fact is, I lose track of the days many times. The time just slips away. While I was standing there, I realized it was Wednesday and our first month at Mission Bay RV Resort was coming to an end.

Mission Bay RV Resort is owned by the city of San Diego. The city only allows RVers to stay in the park for a maximum of one month. After a month, you’re required to leave the property for a minimum of 24 hours. I’ll go into what I think is the reasoning behind this in another post. Our time is up on Friday. That means I need to pack and prepare to leave today, so we can pull out tomorrow. We’ll go the Sycuan Casino near El Cajon and spend the night, then return on Saturday after serving our 24-hour exile.

When I mention staying in a parking lot overnight – such as a casino or Walmart lot when were on the road – I think some people get the impression that we’re living as homeless vagabonds. Nothing could be further from the truth. When we overnight in a parking lot, it’s a matter of convenience. We’re fully self-contained and live in a comfortable, albeit small home. Our home just happens to have wheels.

When we’re in a nice RV resort – or even boondocking in the desert, on a beach or along a river – we live what we consider to be an excellent lifestyle. We stay in places that generally have agreeable weather. We meet up with family and friends and make new friends. We take advantage of outdoor activities. We grill and dine outdoors often. We’re not roughing it. This is a lifestyle choice for us, not a road trip or vacation.

Some people have the means to take this lifestyle to an even greater level of luxury. Right now, there are at least four coaches in the park that cost well over one million dollars. The owners of these coaches may or may not be full-timers, but they spend months out of the year in their motorhomes. They could be living anywhere, but they choose to be here with us.

Donna read a Facebook post yesterday by one of her full-time RVing friends about her husband having surgery. Someone posted a reply suggesting that maybe they should get a hotel room for a few days to recuperate. What? Why would anyone leave their home to recover in a germ-filled hotel? Donna’s friend isn’t on a road trip. Like us, they’ve made a commitment to this lifestyle and their coach is their home.

I have much to do today before we head out. The temperature this afternoon will reach 80 degrees. We’ll have back-to-back travel days, so I probably won’t post for a couple of days.