It's been over ten years since Bill was medically retired from the Air Force. Back then, we dreamed of getting a travel trailer, touring the United States for a year, and eventually ending up in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, where we would "retire." We were stationed in Anchorage, Alaska, at the time. The thought of beginning our trip from the far NorthWest sounded perfect, and it was.
July 2014 - The total length of our rig was 59 feet, a beast driving down the road. Our 20 passenger "party" bus was a turbo'd diesel that could pull a home off it's foundation. It was awesome!
The drive through Alaska and Canada were some of the most breathtaking views I've ever experienced. At times, they were often the most terrifying.
Bekka and Zeke. Nailed it. lol
There were a few days when I closed my eyes as we ascended/descended a steep mountain, praying with every fiber of my being while tears streamed down my face. This is where I came up with the saying, "The most beautiful and worthwhile adventures usually want to kill you." That statement has proven accurate several times, and I'm still alive. (Takes a bow 😄)
Zeke and Abby. Also, nailed it. We do cut out photos so well, lol.
After crossing the Canadian border, which felt more like a finish line after going through a few near-death experiences, we enjoyed the beauty of Washington for almost a month. Once we left Washington and began our journey down the West Coast, it felt like the adventure had begun, and our forever home was within sight.
Baby Malachi playing with the steering wheel, his favorite toy. He's been a big vehicle, kind of guy ever since.
The plan was to travel down the West Coast, across the South, up the East Coast, and finally back across the North, finalizing plans as the mood hit us. When we reached Yuma, Arizona, our hauling vehicle stopped pulling the travel trailer. We had several mechanics look it over and put tons of money into fixing it. Still, it would not haul anything, but we could limp to Tucson, Arizona, to meet up with a "Bestie." There, we would pour more money into the bus to try and get us back on the road. No dice.
We even tried getting a new rig, but since we didn't have a permanent address, they wouldn't sell us an RV because we were considered "full-timers." That was a shock, and we refused to lie and give them a fake permanent address. (That was then, almost ten years ago. Now, I'd lie and give them a "permanent address" - I've lost patience with the government, banks...anyone telling me what I can and cannot do. They only do that because they're afraid of people skipping out on paying back their loans, and that's not how I roll. I pay my debts. Lord willing, we will pay in cash this time, which will make this dumb rule a moot point.)
So, we were stuck in Tucson, forced to wander in the desert for 40 years...or so we thought.
At about the same time, I found out I was pregnant with Hosanna. Bill decided I needed a home to give birth in, not a travel trailer. Hindsight 20/20, that was wise. But it also shoved us into creating a life in Tucson. We had a church and church family we loved, the kids had terrific homeschool friends, and we had grown fond of this area and the people who lived here. But it never felt like our forever home. Our forever home had trees, mountains, and wildlife that posed a danger while driving. And Tucson is desert, cactus, and venomous things like rattlers, brown recluses, and scorpions.
Did you know that Arizona is the most venomous state in the union? True story. Everything here is trying to poison you or stab you (cactus). Furthermore, the summers are affectionately known as "cremation season." Despite all that going against Arizona, we still loved it here...because of the people. And let's face it, we have spectacular winters. Nothing beats an Arizona winter, flip flops all year long, and occasionally, we toss on a hoodie.
Fast-forward to our three-week vacation in Hawaii this summer, and we are all in the hot tub, reminiscing about the past.
"Remember living in the travel trailer?"
Fondly, "Yeah, that was fun."
"Wait, what? We lived in a travel trailer?"
"Well, yes, but you didn't. You weren't born yet."
"What was it like?"
(Long discussion about our adventures and the things we saw along the journey from those old enough to remember the trip.)
"Too bad we can't finish that trip."
"Why can't we?" asked an innocent, young child, not old enough to understand how "adulting" works.
Silence.
Nobody said a word. We all just sat there, unable to answer his question.
The next day, back in the hot tub, only this time Bill and I were there, I asked, "Why couldn't we finish the trip?" He looked at me with sadness and replied, "My job."
Bill had just started a handyman company, and it was finally beginning to take off and accumulate bookings with a month or more extended wait period.
We both looked off in the distance, enjoying the hot tub and the company of each other. Eventually, I sighed and said, "Too bad you can't be a traveling handyman."
Lightbulb. Bill snapped to attention and said nothing, but his face told me everything I needed to know. He'd solved the problem of "Why can't we?"
Abby is 9 years old in this photo. And now she is living on her own, looking out her own doorway.
Don't blink, Mama. Do not blink.
All of this happened near the beginning of our vacation. So we spent the remaining time in prayer and discussion, trying to work out the logistics to see if this was a possibility...
✅ Get Abby to college first and ensure she is settled and doing well. Check .
✅ What about Zeke? He won't want to come along and needs more stability than being uprooted every few days. An apartment was located and acquired, and his needs and happiness were secured. He moves in just under two weeks. Check.
✅ What about our church, church family, and homeschool group? We must let them know we plan to live only a little longer here. Almost a full check (This one was by far the hardest. Like I said, you don't live in Arizona for the heat or venomous creatures; you live here for the people.)
The only thing left to do is put our home on the market. The current plan is October 1st. Our house is over halfway packed into boxes and moved into storage. Will we make that deadline? To be continued... but the Liebichs are selling their home and hitting the road again.
Other questions we've been asked...
🔹 Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, is no longer the end goal. However, it is on the shortlist of possible "forever" locations.
🔹 We're not sharing the shortlist, but you are welcome to try and add to it. The criteria to be put on the short list is stringent, hence the reason it's a very short list.
🔹 Yes, we'd love to see you if our paths cross. However, Bill and I want our teenagers to lead this journey. We are allowing them the freedom to plan and execute this adventure. They've already got a very detailed list and plan of places to see and visit. That being said, I'll see what I can do. We have sway over the plans and control over the steering wheel.
Token family photo in Alaska with it's State bird. This staged photo makes me giggle every time.
Finally, I will leave you with this: life is a journey, not a destination. Enjoy every moment. Savor it. If, for some reason, you aren't enjoying your journey, you are the only person capable of changing those circumstances. Those first steps and the commitment to follow through are terrifying; many people will try to convince you not to execute. Do it anyway.
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