Staying in a Walmart Parking Lot is a Bad Idea: RVing in Retirement

We learned the hard way that planning to sleep in a Walmart parking lot is a bad idea.

Randy and I loaded the RV ready to get out of town, away from the cold, snow, and freezing temperatures. Realizing age thinned our blood and chilled our souls, we finally accepted that becoming snowbirds might not be a bad idea. Beginning our first extended trip of retirement filled me with excitement. My veins pumped with enthusiasm at the prospect of having no time limits. Life held not confines; we could stop whenever, eat whatever, just move at a leisurely pace.

Our little Yorkie, Dagney, stood by the door and whined, knowing as we carted pillows and toothbrushes that an event was about to occur, and she wanted in on it. How she sensed our fast approaching exit, I may never know, but moments before leaving, she climbed to the top of the couch and jumped into my arms as I walked by. I suppose she figured if clawing on my pant legs hadn’t caught my attention then an acrobatic stunt might.

Her instincts proved accurate. As I caught her in mid-air, I thought about applying for a job in the trapeze act at the circus. With her in the basket our 16-hour trip began, the destination Palm Springs, California.

Little life existed between road signs in Nevada

The plan, what little planning we did, outlined a relaxed drive half-way, an early stop in an RV park to enjoy an evening a in our home on wheels. However, old habits die hard, so we drove. Since there were no current bushes in sight we paused only to eat a slice of cold, leftover pizza.

No problem, because past experience promised an RV resort in our future with all the amenities to turn our RV into a home. Apparently, my high aspirations were shooting for the stars as the desert led to more desert without the appearance of an oasis. When we finally came upon a sign that announced Las Vegas 47 miles, long past the where we had planned to stop, we agreed to end the day in Sin City.

However, after 12 hours of driving I only desired warm food and a stationary place to lay my head. Instead we were greeted by the flashing lights of Vegas. Oh, goody. Driving an RV in an unknown city after dark offered about as much appeal as driving another hour or even 15 minutes. It was time to park.

In our infinite wisdom, a thought teased our brain

Walmart allows RVs to spend the night! In retrospect I must have really been tired because I typically avoid the huge grocery store chain like the plague. However, there it appeared in color and lights, like an invitation from God, a Walmart welcoming us. It was too easy.

We parked next to a motorhome apparently with similar intentions. My earlier menu plan died three hours earlier, so I ventured on a quest to purchase fried chicken in the deli — there was none. No warm food. I stood at a crossroads, to go forward and purchase a cold sandwich to supplement the cold pizza from earlier or go back and cook something. Close to a diabetic coma I needed warm, low carb food. And no, I am not diabetic but imagine it would feel like I did at that moment. The thought of eating a hoagie from Walmart was impossible to digest. I returned empty-handed and explained my dilemma to my husband.

My brain was on overload, and my body needed nourishment

Decisions were out of reach. I don’t remember when I shut down. Maybe when I dodged the teen in the orange wig driving the handicap cart, maybe when the guard at the entrance scanned me before entering, probably when my request for chicken was denied by a lady in a hairnet shaking her head who didn’t speak English.

Campbell’s soup heated on the gas burner solving the problem. A couple crackers with an apple completed our meal. Now to rest and regenerate. Our resort awaited our arrival, tomorrow.

With our head on the pillows, I pretended the noises of shoppers, revving of engines and sirens from police cars simply produced a new form of white noise. Instead of drifting asleep to the reverberations of the ocean waves, or the hum of cicadas, we slept to sounds of the city complete with parking lot lamps and flashing store signs, but I was too tired to care.

Amazing that in the midst of our consistent white noise, a trivial knock on the door could jar us alert. The flashing blue light outside our window probably added to our alertness. In his defense, the security guard’s manners were polished. Apologetically, he informed us Walmart’s new policy restricts overnight camping in the parking lot. My silent complaint had me asking why he hadn’t provided that information an hour ago when he drove past and we were fully clothed.

Being a helpful citizen, he explained we could park at Ross’s.

Randy offered to move our abode, so I remained in bed. Side note, riding in an RV as it is pulled over speedbumps is not a positive experience. Five minutes and 200 yards later, Randy crawled back in bed. Outside our window we watched another RV park beside us.

By this time, the clock read 10:30. At 11:30, the whine of our dog broke through the sounds of the city to announce the need to potty. Again, Randy dressed and completed the role of good Samaritan. Usually a task relegated to me but visions of the teen in the orange wig still haunted me. This time when he climbed in bed, I could see his breath in the cold air. I thought Vegas climate was supposed to be warm. We added another blanket.

At 12:30, Walmart employees magically appeared to collect the shopping carts scattered around the parking lot. The night passed providing little sleep and no rest. At 6:30, we were on the road again.

As I sit writing the conclusion to this narrative, I am already excited about sharing our next story. For now, we are parked in what we affectionately call a golf cart community in Palm Springs, California. It is warm and the natural mineral water in the hot tubs have worked their magic. Life is good.

As my husband and I live the dream of retirement, I share our experiences. Come ride with us.

I Drove a 40-foot Motorhome in Rush Hour Traffic