Reality RV

It's everyone's dream to sell everything you own and travel this beautiful country in an RV. No clocks or time constraints. Nowhere in particular that you need to be. If you don't like the neighborhood, you can break camp and find another one. I'm never been without a roof over my head and food in my stomach while my family and I explore the highways and byways of America, seeing sights some will never see. The bright blue of a cloudless Colorado sky. The ocean off the coast of Oregon. The field in Pennsylvania where United flight 93 crashed on that fateful September day. The swamps of southern Georgia and the masterpiece that is Mount Rushmore. Nothing is out of reach.

While I can go on for hours about the sights I've seen and the people I've met, I would be remiss if I didn't tell you the ugly side of being a full time RVer.

Family Living in an RV

My traveling family consists of myself, my husband, two of my sons, and my brother. We also have four cats and three pitbulls that travel everywhere with us. We live in a 2018, 40 foot Keystone Sprinter trailer with three slideouts. My husband and I share the master bedroom and our sons and brother share the bunkroom at the opposite end of the trailer. The middle of the trailer is occupied by the living room with a small loveseat, a dining room with bench seats that have storage and doubles as a bed and a kitchen with three burner stove and oven. Off the master bedroom is a large bathroom with a shower, toilet, sink, and storage. It's all brand new. It's also falling apart. Trim has come off in travel, one of the slideouts bows in the middle, the awning broke on my three, and one of the power jacks failed on use number three. The positive thing about traveling with this setup is we don't have to pack up our things every time we relocate. Everything sits in its place and the walls slide in to secure everything when we are moving. We attach the trailer to a Ford F250 Super Duty diesel truck that our brother drives and my husband and I have a Lincoln Town Car that we follow in. That's our house—two vehicles, five people, and seven animals that have to be moved safely each time.

Vehicles break down at the most inopportune times.

We started in Waycross, Georgia on a beautiful July morning. My husband and I and our daughter, who was with us at the time, rode in the Lincoln, following my brother and sons in the truck that pulls the trailer we call home. Twenty miles outside of Waycross, we blew a tire on the Lincoln. Everyone has to stop together and everyone waits together, sometimes for hours for help to come, especially if your rig is in need of a tow. You may think it's not much of a problem, but sitting in a trailer with one slide out so we can fit in the living room and tractor-trailers passing on the highway at 80 miles an hour is not fun. In fact, it's terrifying.

In Colorado, we had just crested another mountain and were starting on the down slope when our spark plug blew out of the motor. Who knew that elevation could have that much of an effect on a motor? Apparently, the local auto parts store was very familiar with the phenomenon and had in stock what we needed to resleeve the motor and install a new spark plug.

Once the spark plug was fixed, we were on our way and out of money. A turn in to a game station resulted in the passenger ball joint breaking and that had to be fixed.

As we were leaving Colorado, a problem started with the truck. It turned out to be a blown radiator and the truck has six (yes six!) of them. Two days and seven hundred dollars later, we left Utah.

After a short stay in Washington, we broke camp and my husband and I went to fill up the car. On the way back to meet up with the truck and trailer, the driver's side ball joint broke. We managed to get that fixed and on the road to get an hour down the highway and I see smoke coming from under the hood of our car. The electric cooling fan had locked up and was burning. It was another day before that was fixed and we were on our way again.

Where do we park?

For six months out of the year, we pick a place we like and remain stationary, hooked up to electric, sewer, water, and cable. For the remaining six months, we travel and we do a lot of "boondocking."

Boondocking is the practice of finding an empty parking lot or a piece of federal land that we can sit on for free. Our rig is self-contained and we can still take showers and cook in the absence of electricity. We've seen the most amazing things in our travels and there is no way we could have had the same experience had we been parked in an RV park or state camping grounds. I think the best spot we ever spent a night boondocking was on top of Mt. Baker in Washington. There isn't a light for miles and no people. The sky is amazing with stars we had no idea lived in the night sky, blocked from our view by the light pollution of the cities we are used to living in.

Walmart and truck stops are always pretty safe areas to stop for the night. Management usually doesn't mind and will allow you a few days in the parking lot to rest up. Make sure you don't set up camp in the parking lot and leave your area better than you found it. Remove trash and pick up after your animals.

If you are going to park at a truck stop, try to get a marked RV spot or one at the front of the store. The truckers are pulling in to rest up, just like we are. They don't mind us being there, if we follow a few simple rules. Don't leave your rig at the fuel pumps and shop, shower, or use the restroom facilities. You don't have anywhere to be in a hurry. Those guys are on a time schedule and very regulated on sleeping hours. Don't run your generator. Don't put your slideouts out if you can help it. Park where the truck driver can easily see you are in a spot. Don't go to the back and hide. That causes accidents and upset truckers!

The Yucky but Necessary Part

With five people living in our RV, our septic gets a workout. We have two tanks, one for gray water, or water used in the shower and sinks. The black tank holds the septic from the toilet. When those tanks are filled, they have to be emptied. That requires a strong stomach, a pair of gloves, and a wish you had never lived to bear witness to what just came out of that tank. If it gets too full, you will know immediately by the smell that refuses to go away and it becomes necessary to find a septic dump immediately. When we are boondocking that is our only option, but that requires we break camp and everybody goes along for the fun.

Living Our Lives

My house operates just like yours, we just live our lives in motion. My kids have school five days a week and we the adults still have to be adults, taking care of bills and making sure our children are safe and happy. I still cook large meals for my family, and I still do it from scratch. Clothes have to washed, the dogs walked, the cats looked after. We just do it a tank of gas at a time.

Do it. You only have this life to live once.