When I attended Saint Simon and Jude, a Catholic elementary school, Friday's were art day. We were allotted an hour of constrained creativity; coloring in between the lines or cutting construction paper with plastic scissors. Like those of my older siblings before me, my contributions to the cork board of student art often got the teachers attention. My brother even caused a parent/teacher conference when he was the only one in his class to think outside the box (or bushel, in this case), and colored his paper apple green, rather than the usual red. Without knowing this legacy, I often followed in his rebellious foot-steps. My generic little indian boy cut-out for thanksgiving: decked out in camouflage. My dream house, drawn in second grade: a mobile home.
That dream has been restored. It makes me laugh to think that as early as second grade I wanted to travel and appreciated simplicity. Now, with a license to drive and a taste for travel only fortified, a mobile home doesn't sound that far fetched. This Airstream Interstate might be six figures straight off the lot, but damn its sexy:
It's no 'Scummy Deluxe'(pictured below, with proud owner), but where it lacks in character (and sheer creepiness) it makes up with class.