I’m living in an RV park now and have called Wanda, my 23-foot RV, home for about three months now. I’ve spent about half that time separated from her, either housesitting for family or forced to park her and live with my sisters. Believe me when I say, actually living in her is the best thing that has happened to me in years.
But living in an RV has its challenges. Space or lack thereof can be something that requires getting used to. You become extremely clever in finding hiding places (more commonly referred to as storage) for all your must-haves, but ultimately living in reduced quarters means a reduction in “stuff.” When you have to choose between the CD’s you know you’ll listen to and the family silverware, if you are a true RV dweller you’ll find someone in the family to pass the heirlooms on to.
Maybe you’ll also discover that four plates are more than enough for little old you, because you can’t stuff them into a dishwasher and pull out a new one from your stack of eight repeatedly. There is no place for dirty dishes, except a tiny sink, which is smaller than a house's bathroom sink.
You’ll need to either communicate to family and friends that you really don’t need gifts of “things” anymore for Christmas and birthdays or decide to accept the gifts and just pass them on to lovely people who can really use them.
Chores take on a completely different meaning when you are no longer part of the house-dwelling world. Instead of spending the day vacuuming, dusting, scrubbing, trimming, mowing and raking, you will be spending much more time on leisure activities. On the downside, you will have to occasionally deal with dumping your sewage tank or leveling out the RV because your refrigerator isn’t working quite right. I’ll take the occasional smelly or irritating task rather than the constant slavery to a house, but then I know I’m the exception.
Finding a place that suits you to park your RV long term can be a bit of a challenge, because you and your rig are considered the low end of an already misunderstood breed of outcasts – the mobile homers. There are few parks with those “high end” doublewides that don’t look down their noses at you. It was a shock to my system to call a mobile home park and be told “We don’t do RVs” in a tone of voice would have been more appropriate if I had asked to erect an outhouse on their front lawn.
If you choose to become a full-time RVer you are in for a great lifestyle but many adjustments. If you are basically the adaptable type, no problem. But if you have any hesitations, then rent an RV and camp for a month. Try it for at least a week in a tent site, because you need to know if you can handle no electricity and limited water for short periods, because you will run into situations without those luxuries. While you’re trying out the life, imagine what in the world you will do with all your possessions. If you find you must have your life’s accumulations around you, it is a sign that the lifestyle really won’t do for you.
If you decide to join me, and thousands of others, on this adventure of mobility - good for you. You’ll probably find you have time to blog!
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