When other RVers see my teeny little Airstream, they say, “Oh, how nice, how cute, how wonderful — for now.” They view my tin can as nothing more than a rolling “starter” home. They assume that if I am going to continue on for years as a full-time RVer, I will eventually want to upgrade to a larger rig — a motorhome. Wrong!
A lot of people equate “motorhome” with “convenience.” These rigs are certainly much bigger than your standard fifth wheel or travel trailer, providing both more living space and more storage for your stuff. And they tend to come equipped with a lot more “gadgets.” You can have a king-sized water bed. You can travel with dozens of handy kitchen appliances. You can even take a washer and dryer, jacuzzi tub, full-sized grill, and big-screen TV with you on the road. So really, it’s a matter of equating “motorhome” with “luxury,” and “luxury” with “convenience.” I, on the other hand, see these monstrosities as nothing but a rolling collection of complications. I guess it all depends on your perspective.
I decided to hit the road, I had a pretty clear idea of what I wanted my life to look like. I strove for a smaller, simpler existence — less encumbered by “stuff” and responsibilities. I planned to reduce my footprint on the earth, live more frugally, and use fewer resources. I needed to let go of all the things that wasted my time and cluttered up my life when I owned a house. I wanted to be able to travel freely and unobtrusively. And I’ve accomplished that goal quite nicely in my travel trailer — but living in a motorhome would make it difficult to live up to my own standards. Motorhomes use more gasoline and create more pollution. With all the extra gadgets, there are more things to have to maintain, more things that could possibly break. Motorhomes are loud, noisy, and they take up a ton of space. They loom over my tiny trailer at the RV parks, blocking out the sunlight. It’s highly unpleasant to park next to one for a lengthy period of time — especially when you’re jammed in next to someone whose slideouts encroach on your lot, or who runs the engine all night long to power their air conditioner and TV. Really, motorhomes sort of violate all of my most important values. And if I wanted a basement or a washer and dryer, I wouldn’t have sold the house!If your rig breaks down, your whole house has to go into the shop.
issue of having everything you own attached to an engine that might overheat — I saw a motorhome pulled to the side of the road in South Dakota, suffering from an engine fire that had spread to the compartments below the living space — I could just picture everything they owned being ruined by smoke and flames before they got the fire put out — if my truck goes up, only my truck is at risk)Click here for reuse options!
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