Overwhelmed with after-school hunger, I stuck my finger into the contents of the electric mixer and landed on the other side of the kitchen, suffering shock by mashed potatoes.

Stunned, I lay on the floor, hoping the surge from the ungrounded mixer would manifest my body with super powers.

Fifty-five years later a similar thing happened when our investment advisor pitched the idea of early retirement in an RV.

The jolt of enlightenment didn’t send me flying across the room, but every nerve stood at attention as synapses fired warning shots across my frontal lobe. Emergent powers rushed to the surface.

Our money man had opened up a path we'd never seen. Could the house-free, financially independent, border-blind, semi-retired, mobile American life be the retirement-hack we'd been longing for? Open-ended camping with no scheduled return date. What do you even call that?

Forever Camping!

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