Andy's 1972 Dodge Sportsman RV.

My father-in-law lives a life without a lot of responsibility. When we were renovating our house, Andy would fly up and live with us for six months at a time, work on the house, and then head back to Arizona whenever funds for materials ran out.

When we visited him this summer, I had the chance to document his rolling home. I don't know the model of the RV conversion, but at this point it bears little resemblance to whatever it once was. I understand there were once sleeping quarters over the cab, but he had to get rid of it because the wood frame was so dry-rotted. More recently, I heard that he turned the entire back wall into a hinged ramp in order to park his motorcycle inside.

Thanks again for everything, Andy.

Car-Spotting Rite of Passage: The San Francisco 1956 Mercury Montclair.

I've been sitting on these photos for about nine months, waiting until I had the time to give them the presentation they deserve.

Back in March, the wife, kids and I were preparing for a roadtrip down to California for my brother-in-law's wedding. Our itinerary included a few days with family in San Francisco, which I hoped would offer the chance from some casual car-spotting. And just before we left, I happened upon photos of this very Mercury, documented by our blogroll brothers at The Street Peep.

Their photos were taken in February, but other shooters had been documenting the car since as far back as 2009, with comments suggesting that it's been parked in this same spot for over a decade, always with current plates. At least two bloggers reported realizing, after photographing the car, that there was someone inside.

... which explains the private, weatherproof cocoon of tape and cardboard, but not the layers covering the hubcaps, hood and trunk.

As we set out on our adventure, I thought, "What I wouldn't give for the chance to photograph that car."

We spent a day doing touristy things in downtown SF, and I shot a handful of satisfying OPC's. Then, as we headed toward my aunt and uncle's place for the evening, GPS guided us down a street that looked eerily familiar. Without getting my hopes up, I thought, "This looks just like the place where that Mercury lives."

Five seconds later, there it was. I shrieked so violently that my wife thought I had witnessed a murder.

1976 GMC Palm Beach Motorhome.