When I was a kid my dad built a mobile home out of a 1950's school bus. In its building phase, I remember my dad, standing atop of the elevated and exposed flat bed which accentuated his already intimidating 6' 3" frame. At some point, my unfortunately placed tricycle was flattened like a pancake by the back wheels of this giant rolling house. I cried. With mom's curtains in the windows and hand picked tiles on the counters, we traveled in what dad called our "house car" to Arizona, Oregon and Washington. That was the very early 1970's and I have no doubts that we were the hight of hippie chic. Some of my fondest and not so fond memories are of being in that bus. Getting to sleep in the big bed above the cab, roof pulled back to sleep under the stars. Waking up freezing in the winter with out central heating. Being warmed by the vintage potbelly stove. The times spent there as a teen were embarrassing. Why didn't we have a "normal" non moving house? With more privacy? HIPPIES!
When I think about it, we had it good. Not much money but lots of love, friends and adventures. We were happy campers.