This past October was the first opportunity my wife, myself and our two retired greyhounds had to camp in our vintage 1962 Airstream Globe Trotter. We folded down the back seats of our hybrid SUV for the dogs, hooked up the little 2,800 lb. aluminum trailer, and embarked on a roundtrip journey from Chicago to southern California to visit my parents, siblings and one brand new little nephew.

We opted for the warmth of mid-September, choosing I-40 west to begin our 5,000 mile journey. We passed many of the classic Route 66 locations and ghost towns, dodging an Oklahoma tornado along the way, and camped under a canopy of stars you simply cannot see in Chicago. After a few days on the road, we'd traded the Windy City, windy Oklahoma and the hot winds of New Mexico for the salty breezes of Laguna Hills. We then spent two enjoyable weeks with our family... and wondered non-stop why we don't live much closer!

Eventually we said our farewells to family and drove up the incomparable California coast, stopping to wander through the galleries in Carmel-by-the-sea, spotting lighthouses from Highway 1 in the fog, and past surfers riding towering waves off Santa Cruz. Carefully navigating our old trailer across the narrow lanes of the Golden Gate Bridge as the sun set on downtown San Francisco, we finally wound up in the tiny remote village of Mendocino, California. In a moment of pure victory, I pulled our rig right off the road and into the sand.

That view outside our small, curved door had changed daily for the last couple of weeks, but it was hard to imagine a better front yard than this; tall grasses, framing our private view of the Pacific Ocean, just 100 yards away, as seagulls cried overhead and the cozy restaurants of nearby Mendocino beckoned.

Our friends drove down from Portland for a visit, and we reconnected with former Chicagoans back in San Francisco, the last few years of distance and being out of touch instantly disappearing... just as it should be with old friends. These epic road trips, wonderful as they are, lose quite a lot of their meaning if you aren't seeking out old friends, or at the very least making new ones, along the way. We were fortunate to have done both on this trip.

The leaves were changing color by now, as we headed into the second week of October. Their reds and yellows reminded us that we'd still need to get over the mountains of Nevada and Wyoming, and the weather would only get colder the longer we stayed. So we reluctantly turned towards home - choosing I-80 for a more northern route back... and a new viewpoint of America's brilliant scenery.

We slept under the flashing neon signs of casinos in Nevada, and made a point of stopping at the famed Bonneville salt flats. The greyhounds napped in the backseat the entire trip, just happy to be with us while we enjoyed the freedom of being able to stop anywhere we chose without worry of finding a dog-friendly hotel, or being further away from nature than we'd like. We'd spent the night everywhere from WalMart parking lots to remote spots in the woods. Sometimes you have to look a little harder, but the reward is a warm, familiar bed no matter where you stop for the night.

Unlike any other type of travel, bringing your own camping gear along - whether an old pup tent or a half-million dollar motorhome - provides you with the sense that you're in charge; exploring this giant, endlessly unique and beautiful country at your own pace. And that pace allows for some of the best photos, the most cherished memories, the most passionate discussions over which exit to take, the most restful nights after a long day, and the empowerment that you took on this great big country all by yourselves, and it greeted you with open arms.