The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly

A lived-in look to Nomad Life

There’s an old saying in business: we offer three types of service - good, fast, and cheap - but you only get to pick two. I'm finding out that RV parks are basically the same, except you replace “fast” with “convenient.”  If it’s good and cheap, it’s not convenient.  If it’s convenient and cheap, it is not good, and if it is good and convenient, it will not be cheap.  A nomadic lifestyle can leave you limited in a lot of ways, but that lifestyle also brings a lot of freedom.  It sounds contradictory but it really isn’t.

Living in an RV (no matter what size) is absolutely not for everyone, no matter how dreamy Instagram makes it look.  Well… it could be for anyone if you were single and in a space that had privacy hedges, full hookups, affordable amenities and a noise ordinance.  However, for most places, you aren’t that lucky.  I’m going to start with the less desirable things about RV life… because those are the things that you really have to dig around to find on social media, and I want to end this on a good note.

The Bad: You become the Maintenance Department

First the camper itself.  It doesn’t matter what brand or model you buy - campers are cheap in quality even though you’re paying an arm and a leg for them.  You can almost always expect issues as soon as you practically roll off the lot.  Sometimes it’s just as simple as something got knocked loose and you need to play ‘follow the wire” to see where it is.  Sometimes it’s entirely different - like in our case where the little plastic pop-up electrical outlet in the kitchen counter was broken upon delivery.   So, be prepared to become very handy with tools and DIY repairs.  “Just get the mobile/roadside service when you buy it” - oh we did.  But they only have certain authorized techs and good luck finding one in your area.  We could bring it into the dealership and “just leave it with them for a week or so and it will be fixed”.  Well, that doesn’t work Bama RV.  We live in it full time and I have no desire to be tent camping in Alabama right now when it’s 100 and fuck degrees outside.  I am way too menopausal for that.

Next is the space. The chances of finding the perfect setup for your specific needs are slim, so you’re either going to renovate, or you’re going to drastically adjust how you live. We planned on doing renovations at some point but right now, we’ve opted to drastically change how we operate our day to day lives.  My husband is entirely too organized, and I am a habitual nester, but we are finding ways to make it work.  I am better about only stacking things in one corner of the tri-fold sofa; he is learning to be more tolerant of my little piles.

Speaking of significant others… you need to be sure that you really love the person you’re going to be taking this on with.  You are in a very enclosed space.  Ours is not a bad size, we have 2 opposing pullouts and a rear kitchen which gives a lot of living room space.  But heaven forbid someone needs to walk up the small set of stairs to go to the bathroom while the other person is heading out of the bathroom.  Unless you are in a luxury destination fifth wheel that is going to be parked somewhere quasi-permanently, or at least seasonally, you’re looking at 300-500 square feet.  When the weather gets nasty, you need to be perfectly good with being cooped up with that person in a space the size of a Holiday Inn Express hotel room with a single queen bed.

Ohh the bed.  It’s not a real queen… it’s a short queen.  And let me tell you, even though it’s just as wide, that 5 inches in length can make quite a difference if you are not a side sleeper.  Mattresses that come with the RV are absolute trash, so if you’re going to live in it full time for more than a month, you also need to invest in a new mattress.  We went with a mid-grade made-for-RVs mattress which are light weight but still very supportive and even that one cost us near $2,000. 

Bedding styles are also limited for the short queen option so you’re definitely going to be forking out significantly more for a set of sheets that will keep you comfortable.  We opted for bamboo sheets just because of airflow and optimal temperatures when sleeping.  Airflow is not the same as in a brick home so you need to make adjustments where you can, your bedding is one of those places. 

The Ugly: Gladys knows everything about everyone, and it stinks (literally)!

On the bedroom topic, not a lot of head space in a typical RV bedroom unless you go with the later 5^th wheel options (35+ feet).  So, if you’re a bed-reader, or any other sort of activity-in-the-boudoir type, that curved headwall definitely complicates things.  I’ve given up writing at night in the bed, which used to be my favourite before bed activity.  If your park has a noise ordinance, sex will not be your favourite before-bed activity either, because those walls are not good sound barriers.  There is a high chance you become an avid weather tracker because that’s when every couple in the campground can let loose.  Before, when you wanted some couple time it was ‘quick the kids are napping!’ but in this environment it is more of a ‘is that thunder?!  Quick!  The storm is coming!’ situation. (This also applies to phone calls, bathroom activities, or anything that has any volume - privacy does not exist in this world).

And lastly, full hookup or not full hookup… that is the ultimate question.  Water/electric is most common because they are the easiest for RV sites to host.  However, you will be emptying out the black and grey tanks every 2-3 days (depends heavily on how much time you spend in the camper and how many people are in there).  While it is not such a big deal the first couple of weeks.  By week 3, especially in that sultry summer heat, it’s like standing in a sewage sauna while it empties out. 

I know what you’re thinking… and that is a hard no.  You do not walk away.  THAT is how you have overflows and are stuck cleaning up your family turds all around your camper and neutralizing the smell (and if you do not, even if it was just urine, or grey water it will reek!).  And even if you have two or three Rhinos, you are making multiple trips to the wastewater dump spot wherever it is in the park.  Hopefully you didn’t choose a popular time where you’re waiting in line to empty. 

And while full hookups are ideal, those sites are typically $10 or so more per night ($200-$300/month).  That means if you are on a limited budget, those are not always an option even if they are available. 

While there are many more things I could add to that side of RV life, let me tell you about the amazing parts.  But here’s the thing: none of that has made me regret it. Not even close. Because there is nothing about RV life that is merely good. When it works for you, RV life is great. So great in fact that all those ‘bad’ things I listed become unnoticed after a time and you adjust.  Well, maybe not the tank emptying part.  I don’t think that ever gets better, it will always be just varying degrees of grossness depending on the temperature.

The Good: Time no longer slips away the way it used to…

First of all, the amount of stress that dissipated was absolutely noticeable.  I lived a pretty peaceful life before moving into our cozy little fifth wheel. We spent a lot of time over the previous five years healing old traumas, releasing old frameworks that no longer served us, and learning new, healthy behaviours which, while difficult, resulted in such an incredibly peaceful household and life in general.  We thought we were fairly stress free… until we got into the RV full time. 

Being out of ‘the city’ and immersed in nature, you naturally slow down.  When you are in the middle of the hustle and bustle you see that we as people are always in a rush… a rush to get to the next appointment… to get to the grocery store… to get home… we are always rushing. If we rush and got everything done, it’s not like the day cleared.  We just pile in more things to do.  We never just slow down and breathe.

It became much easier to be present in the moment, whether we were alone or with each other.  Even inside the RV, with the air conditioning keeping you comfy, nature just natures so hard that your nervous system concedes and you just… settle.  It’s hot when you go outside, yes, but it’s a different kind of hot when you’re surrounded by trees.  It’s not the same as the ‘I’m cooking’ heat you get walking across the pavement of your local Walmart parking lot where the heat is radiating up from the asphalt that has been soaking up the sun all day so you’re getting it from above and below.

You wake up every morning to the sounds of birds singing and go to bed at night being serenaded by crickets and other insects giving the most epic symphony to help you drift off.  You slow down… you match the pace of the insects and animals around you.  You find yourself having conversations with the squirrels, telling them to settle down before they knock the bird’s nest out of the tree above the RV… and you know there are still eggs up in there, so they just need to be more careful!  You really develop an understanding of the ecosystem around you and you become so much more conscious of how important it is to respect the land and notice how fast it is actually disappearing.  And for what?  Nothing important, I promise you that. 

Living this close to the land makes the modern excess of society feel entirely too jarring. This culture of constant upgrades, microplastic cheese, and chasing convenience is against everything we need as a planet and species to survive.  We don’t need more stuff; more consumption; more distractions.  We need less and that really hits home being in a camper.

You also realize how much crap you collect when you live in a house. There is something freeing about getting rid of things you’ve held onto for years, even though you no longer know why. RV life cures you real fast of the casual Target/HomeGoods/Dollar Tree spiral. You stop picking up extra throw pillows and clearance items you swear you’ll use someday but never do. Because once you clean out your house and have to decide what to keep, what to donate, and what to throw away, you understand where all of that stuff actually goes: into a big plastic tote in the attic, never to see the light of day again.

This also applies to people. Once you’re removed from the convenience of the casual pop-in, time spent with others becomes intentional. Some people love that convenience, but it can also create guilt because you’re close enough to visit, yet you don’t always want to go out. Or people drop by because you’re nearby, and you feel like you can’t say no… especially when it’s family.

Camp living makes boundaries easier. Not because you suddenly have a perfect excuse, but because you start to understand that your space and energy matter.  Who you give access to becomes easier to determine.  As people, we have a habit of collecting relationships the same way we collect HomeGoods décor: some of it is meaningful, some of it once served a purpose, and some of it has just been sitting in the attic of our lives because we never stopped to ask why we were still keeping it.

Speaking of people… you will meet the most interesting folks.  Some are funny, some helpful, others not so much of either… but the good thing about that is, your neighbors, the RV park itself, the town you’re in, or even the state - if you don’t love it, you can leave!  At any time, you can empty out those tanks one last time, hook your rig up to that hitch and move on out.  You don’t have to stay anywhere.  The freedom of not being tied to one place for 30 years is incredible.  The United States, or even North America, is so vast.  Most people never spend any real time exploring their state or province, let alone venturing into any others for a significant amount of time.   You could spend a month in every state and even dip up to Canada or down into Mexico for a month each and see more of the world in one year than the majority of your fellow compatriots will in their entire life.

Some of this, or maybe all of this, may sound terrible to most people.  But I have never felt so connected to God and Nature as I do since moving out of our house and into The Shell.  It’s hard to put into words how much the freedom to go and do as you please trumps all the less-ideal things that come along with a more nomadic life.  The possibilities are endless.  You don’t have to relegate living your life to only one or two weeks every year.  Adventure becomes your life, because every day truly is just that - an adventure.  You never know what fun, scary, exciting, new things the day has in store for you when you wake up.  Yet, each and every day brings something new.  Even if that is rescuing a turtle from the middle of the road so it doesn’t get hit or making friends with a green anole lizard who takes residence in your tent and hangs out while you do reiki.