“I was not surprised one bit when he showed me a photo of this R.V. and said he was buying it,” Ms. Blichfeld said. “Ben has a flair for drama. He likes big gestures.”

She added, “Had we been together, I don’t know if that would’ve happened. I’m the one who would have been asking for inspections and things and projecting all the ways the R.V. would complicate our life.”

The motor home, like a fiberglass boat, bobbed and weaved and rocked up the Taconic State Parkway for three hours all the way to Germantown. But Mr. Sinclair looked content behind the wheel. When part of the roof blew off beside a farm on a back road a few miles from the destination, he pulled over, tossed the shards into the back and rolled on. He even arrived at his buddy’s house in time to roll the joint.

In a few days, Mr. Sinclair was scheduled to leave for a monthlong solo trip to Indonesia, to go scuba diving in Bali and Raja Ampat. When he returned, it would be to a new season of his show, a new apartment, a new New York. He was excited about the trip but also nervous, he said, because he doesn’t like to be alone.

He thought out loud: “Is it worth being alone for the sake of being alone because you think you should be alone, or to find solitude just because it’s good for you? Or if you like being around people and that’s just what you like, maybe that’s O.K., too?”

Sounding like one of the endearingly searching New Yorkers who call upon The Guy, Mr. Sinclair said, “I’m trying to answer those questions for myself.”