Today marks four months since we locked the door to our house in Florida and set off for a year-long adventure in an RV. Here’s what we learned during the past month:
When you’re the passenger doing 62 m.p.h. down the highway and a spider appears next to your open window’s screen, don’t try to hit it with a flyswatter. It’s only going to swing back at you and drop down into your bra.
It’s astonishing how fast you can rip your shirt and bra off on the highway while doing 62 m.p.h.
You can’t watch TV while Wallydocking (parking for the night in a Walmart parking lot) because you don’t have any electrical hookups or internet, but with all those “fascinating” people doing “fascinating” things, you’ve got hours’ worth of entertainment. Dive deep into the voyeuristic madness!
Even if the weather forecast calls for 0% rain for an entire year, the sky is bright blue, and there are no clouds within a hundred miles, the answer to “Should we close the windows” when you leave the rig is always “Yes.” Do not even bend this rule.
If you opt for a tow vehicle that’s great for city driving and gets fabulous gas milage (like, say, our little Ford Fiesta, Nippy), there will be a moment during your travels when you’ll stop wondering why everyone pays a sh1t-ton of money for a four-wheel or all-wheel drive. Bone-jarring dirt roads that lead to all the really cool scenery will be the reason you’ll say, “Oh, NOW I get it.”
Your tank sensors may have been honest with you at one point, but once they start lying about how much they contain, you’ll stand in front of them every day and say things like, “What the hell are you talking about? I just emptied you, and I know you’re not half-full after one flush!” You know they’re lying, they know they’re lying, but you won’t be able to resist telling them they’re lying.
You know exactly how long you have before your black tank needs emptying, even when the sensor lies to you.
Half of your time cooking in your rig is spent moving things from one place to another. Bowl goes here, move plate, rearrange bowl when pan comes out, put food there, now move it here, shift the dish towel, move food again, trip over the dog, move plate twelve inches…and on and on and on.
There are times when your big fears will be right in your face. You can decide to face them by shouting things like, “I deny this reality!” and “You have no power over me, demon [insert fear here]!” to cope with the situation. It’s also okay to say “No, I’m not doing that,” and you need no other excuse.
We suspect we’re not alone in having two places we always bash on something. Like, every single day. For Simon, it’s his head and feet. For Susan, it’s her shoulder blades and shins. We do not know why this is so, but we do undeniably know it is so.
By now we’re feeling pretty comfortable driving our 11-ton rig, even though we’ll never feel completely comfortable. It’s an awesome responsibility, and, most of the time, a genuine pleasure. Except on crappy roads. That always sucks.
Drive the car and stay in a hotel if that’s the only way you can reach a fabulous place accessed by roads your rig or your nerves shouldn’t be subjected to.
When you’ve spent just over a month with nothing breaking or needing replacement, you don’t even dare mention it, but you also feel the full exhilaration of this lifestyle and you cannot believe how lucky you are to be able to participate in it.
Veness Travel Media 