Have you ever seen one of those bumper stickers that says “We’re spending the kid’s inheritance” or something similar?

You’ll usually see them on the back of caravans or motorhomes being towed or driven by couple of grey nomads who have packed everything into storage and are heading around Australia on the trip of a lifetime.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love grey nomads.

When my wife and I finally pull the plug on this going to work rubbish, we’ll be joining them on the highways and byways of Australia.

One good Lotto win and we’re off. Bugger the kids.

They can fight over the family heirlooms (a set of Batman Returns bubble gum cards, my wife’s jewellery and a genuine replica of a 1960s kitchen colander we picked up in Target a few years back) but there won’t be much in the way of cash, I can promise them that.

I always knew there were a lot of others like us out there but I didn’t realise how many until the other day when we went to the caravan and camping show in Brisbane.

And there they were – short and tall, fat and thin, young and old.

Actually, that’s not entirely true – they weren’t young and old. They were mostly 50 and older, hence the grey nomad tag.

If they’d been young, they would have been brown nomads ... or black nomads ... or bad parents risking a spell in jail for tying the kids up and leaving them at home while they were out drinking and partying the inheritance away.

Ah yes, the mythical inheritance.

I’m sorry to break it to members of the next generation but the nomads I saw in action were there to spend up big.

They were like kids in a toyshop as they poked and prodded over every square inch of the hundreds of fancy caravans and mobile homes on display.

And we were right in there, poking and prodding with them.

But while we were thinking “one day we’d love to own this one”, many of them were clearly grey nomads on mission.

While their grown-up kids were out climbing career ladders and their cute-as-a-button grandkids were running riot at school or family day care or whatever it is kids do these days before they begin their lives of crime, the grey nomads had taken every cent out of the bank, got a valuation on the family home and were ready to buy, buy, buy.

I saw 50-something-year-old couples lugging in great big garbage bags full of money.

“Quick. Sign me up for that Winnebago before the kids realise what I’ve done,” I heard one man say to a salesman.

It was like a feeding frenzy with the cashed-up oldies handing over their life savings faster than you can say “See ya later kids”.
And I reckon it’s great.

I’m the eldest of seven kids and I’m hoping my parents don’t leave any of us a cent.

Why should they?

They’ve worked hard all their lives and deserve to enjoy the benefits in their golden years.

God knows I don’t plan on leaving any of my ill-gotten gains behind. If I can’t take it with me, I’ll be spending it first.

And from what we saw at the show, that will be pretty easy to do.

If you think I’m talking about people spending a few thousand dollars, then think again.

Sure, you can hit the road in a comfortable motorhome for less than $100,000 but if you want comfort – and I mean real comfort – you can expect to pay a whole lot more.

My wife found the motorhome she thinks would be perfect for our twilight years.

It has everything that opens and closes – even a dishwasher, coffee machine and large screen plasma TV – as well as three separate sections that slide out to turn it into something that’s more like a unit than a motorhome.

But we wouldn’t get much change out of $450,000.

Yep, that’s $450,000.

“Can we get it, huh, can we?” she begged. “It’s just what I always wanted.”

“Of course we can get it,” I told her.

“I’ll just go and see the salesman about selling one of my kidneys.”

Pity really. They’re the only things I was planning on leaving to the kids.