Welcome to First Click, an essay written by The Verge staff in which we opine on lives lived in the near future.

My god, would you look at that. It's the Bruder EXP-6 off-road camper, and watching the video above makes me want to upend my life and go get lost in the world.

I mean, look at the kitchen that's engineered to be accessible from both inside the vehicle and out:

And check out all the clever storage, adjustable sleeping for up to six people, and not one but two refrigerator / freezers:

I own a tiny home which apparently makes me a terrible human being — like a Brooklyn hipster, but worse. The house is a glorified shipping container with six amps and a toilet, located on a beach where I spend as much of the spring, summer, and fall as I can with my family. Otherwise we're in The City because the North Sea coastline can be inhospitable in the coldest and darkest months. The Bruder is essentially a tiny home on wheels. Having discovered it, I can now see my future: sell the city home, buy a Bruder, and roam the Earth. Sounds better than spending winters in Orlando, doesn't it?

Question: how often do you think about your own mortality? Probably not very often if you're under 30 — you're still invincible, immortal as far as your subconscious is concerned. Death certainly isn't on the minds of graduating college students pumped at the thought of “starting their lives,” which is why Steve Jobs brought it up at his 2005 Stanford commencement address:

"Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure — these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart."

Even though these words were directed at a bunch of hungover 20-somethings, I'm still able to find meaning in them. Especially this week, on the precipice of my half-century mark. It's got me thinking about what's important. What's next, and how much time I have left to achieve it.

The greatest joys are rooted in experiences, not possessions

I've come to realize that my greatest sources of joy are rooted in experiences, not possessions. An odd thing to say, I realize, after writing a few hundred words of lust for a $70,000 camper. Granted, possessions are fun. But a new iPhone has never been as rewarding as a happy experience shared with family or friends. Memories that can be played over and over in my head long after the moments have passed. No, it's about having the right amount of wealth to buy the right number of possessions that make it possible to have the experiences I desire. And right now, I'm imagining bumping around the seven continents in a tow-vehicle strong enough to pull a camper like the Bruder EXP-6.

Even writing that brings a smile to my face which means my quest to rage against the dying of the light is already off to a good start.