In the beginning...

or more accurately, on April 25, 1999...

Hyrum and I (Tiana) met at a truck stop in Phoenix, Oregon, while I was on a break from college and Hyrum was driving semi on his first California-to-Washington route.

The fact that we ever even met was more than coincidence, involving a long line of events, some of which were:

-a boy becoming a truck driver over other career options

-a Dick Simon driver with Oregon truck stop smarts

-a truck stop change

-some flat tires

-a slow line at the mechanics

-a phone call to an ex-girlfriend

-several phone calls to a bishop

-a phone call to a local girl with an absentee (missionary) boyfriend

-several invalidated excuses NOT to pick up a trucker

-a truck stop pick-up

Take any one of those items out of the picture, and it’s more than likely that our little family wouldn’t exist.

We had a semi-turbulent relationship, which was mostly my fault, since for 15 months I wouldn't ditch the missionary boyfriend (I needed closure by waiting for his return). In late December of 2000, we finally became trucker and soon-to-be trucker, committed eternally to one another, and destined to spend 24-hours a day (for two years) within six feet of one another.

In mid 2001, the newlywed Johnson couple, armed with commercial drivers licenses and the will to drive nearly 25,000 miles per month, headed out on the open road in a big-rig, where Hyrum taught Tiana the useful, yet terrifying-at-times, skill of driving a semi. That two-year experience cemented a bond between us, never to be broken...and that experience also seems to have pumped our veins full of gypsy blood like a trucker pumping fuel into his tanks.

We got along splendidly in cramped quarters, and as we pursued the American dream of saving up a nest egg for a piece of land to put roots down in, we also dreamt of retiring in an RV to travel the country together without truck scales, loads, and tight schedules that prevent shower taking. 

Fast forward to mid 2003, when driving 20 hours straight each day on the same freeways over and over and over with only 4 days off a month became dull, tiresome, and finally enough. It was time to plant roots.

Fast forward again, ten years, to early 2013. Our lesson we've learned: roots are overrated. We've lived the normal family dream of owning a box attached to a mortgage for 10 years, but now our gypsy blood is boiling to the surface again, and we are ready to hit the road!

So now, you are up to speed.