It has always been our desire to chase the changing autumn foliage south from the North Woods of Maine to the Outer Banks beaches in North Carolina. Today, I thought, we begin. We are really going to do it!

It was a beautiful morning when we left Indian Branch to begin our maiden run. But first we needed to fill the gas tank. I stood watching the little cost calculator on the pump spinning like a Las Vegas one-armed bandit passing $100 and quickly heading for $120, then $150.

As I entered the coach, my wife Diane asked, "How much did it take?"

"Don't ask!" I replied "This beast was very hungry this morning."

And so the name for our home was created — we call it Beast.

Our first destination was French Creek State Park where we met our son and granddaughter. French Creek is a heavily forest area in scenic southeastern Pennsylvania. They have camping sites, but limited spaces for vehicles like Beast.

Having a burning interest in American history, we visited Hopewell Furnace National Historic Site, a cold-blast furnace that produced iron for the early colonists during our War of Independence. Huge bellows powered by a water wheel on French Creek provided the forced air to keep the fires extremely hot. In the summertime, colorful costumed historical interpreters discuss and demonstrate and bring the furnace story back to life.

In the evening, to end a perfect Saturday, we grilled hot dogs and hamburgers, and roasted marshmallows on a stick over an open fire with a billion stars in the sky above.

The kids left us Sunday evening and headed back to work and school, while Diane and I spent another night under the stars. With the sun rising, we retracted the slides, raised the jacks and connected Jeep for a new adventure into the wonders of America.

Diane was excited about the prospect of visiting our country. We have long looked forward to this day, yet she was somewhat distressed with leaving her children and grandchildren.

She spoke of our home in Somerdale, New Jersey, and the memories of laughter, days of comfort and family gathering. It was an unpleasant emotion she was realizing, and I understood her frame of mind.

I too love my family, and I miss them and think of them often. Yet, this was our time, our time together traveling the countryside, a time to fulfill some of our long-held dreams. We have the means to contact them whenever and to keep in touch daily.

I was feeling just the opposite. I was so excited like a kid in a candy store. The idea we were actually travelling in our own coach, the thoughts of discovering unique villages and towns, the visual wonder of our land and the challenges we would face and overcome. This, to me, was truly the beginning of a great adventure. I felt like an early American pioneer looking forward to the mountains of the West and the gold fields of California.

This day we crossed the farmland valley of eastern Pennsylvania, dairy land for many. Unfortunately, many farmers are growing houses on the land rather than potatoes and corn. It is the home of the Amish community where white homes and barns stand upon the land, black hats and beard are emblematic, and horse and buggies move between wheat fields of gold and corn fields of green.

Crossing east to west on I-80 we began to rise in elevation into the Pocono Mountains. It was still early for these wooded fields to be changing colors, but they were beautiful they way they stood.

We drove a couple hundred miles into the Pennsylvania countryside, passing through the Nittany Mountains and towns like Dubois. Nittany is an Algonquian word "Nit-A-Nee" meaning single mountain. Many say it is named after an Indian maiden whose actions caused Mount Nittany to be formed. Whatever the reason, the college campus that lays at its base at State College adopted the name Nittany Lions for their football team's mascot.

I was in great spirits as we talked and drove westward on the interstate before we reached Cook Forest and Deer Meadow. Beast is rolling along at his best. We were about to chase the colors of autumn.