I remember waiting for the school bus when I was a small child and seeing the caravans of Airstreams filled with retirees and expatriots headed to Mexican beaches. The retirees’ dollars went further and it was an exotic escape from the years of watching the clock waiting for their quitting time. It was a trip into “freedom”.
It happened every autumn.
I don’t remember seeing the long trains headed back, probably because they each picked their own time of when to return to their “regular” lives, when they needed to see the grandkids, when they needed to head back for their other tribal groups such as Elks, Moose, and Mason meets.
It was exciting to think of being on the open road, in a self-contained unit, in a caravan with other escapees from the mundane grind of daily life.