We Be Trippin'

I can’t say that owning an RV was ever in our plans.  In fact, I dare say, we were adamantly opposed to it based on Keith’s past experiences.

But when we had several international trips cancelled because of Covid-19, and after being hunkered down in our home for several months, these two wanderlust-filled people (that would be Keith and I) were itching to get outside their bubble.

Our bucket list has long included a west-coast road trip (with stops in New Mexico and Colorado and to see the Grand Canyon because – gasp! – I’ve never seen it!).  And an east-coast road trip (preferably in the fall so we can see the changing of the colors.  Because we live in South-Central Texas and there’s not too much of that around here.)

When we travel, our kids (yes, they’ll always be ‘kids’ even though they’re in their 30’s) have graciously taken care of our pups.  But we miss our four-legged furbabies.  Like crazy.  And that’s just after we’ve taken them to the designated sitter and before we can catch our flight!

So it was important, as we began to consider travel throughout the U.S., that we be able to take them along.

We talked about renting an RV and looked at several options.  The cost of doing so exceeding what it would cost to stay in 5-star hotels along the way. Make no mistake, we love a good 5-star hotel. 

Then looking at 5-star hotels became looking for 5-star hotels that were pet-friendly. We’d even settle for a 4-star, if it meant we could have our pups with us.

And so it happened, on one particular morning, when Keith awoke at 3:30 a.m., unable to fall back asleep.  And when I crawled from underneath the covers some 2 1/2 hours later, that he presents me with his tablet, saying he found a pop-up camper for less than $4000.  And what a great deal it was!

It took LESS than one look for me to know.  This.  Ain’t.  Happening. 

I mean … does he even know who I am?  This girl who refuses to shower in public places, sharing the same space with strangers whose toe jam and other assorted foot fungi I have no interest in sharing?!?!

“Okay”, he relents, “but how about this one?”

It’s not too big, not too small.  Roomy enough for the four of us.  And to introduce the grandbabies to camping too.  And what’s more, it could be ours for a steal!  A fantastic price on a 2019 model that somehow had not yet found its rightful owner!

We had a day full of doing things that retired (me) and semi-retired (Keith) people do.  And arrived at the RV dealership promptly at 5:45, before they closed at 6:00.

We poked our heads into a couple of trailers. 

Too small.  Too stuffy.  Too claustrophobic. 

Too big.  Too fancy.  Too much to haul.  Too big of a price tag!  WOW!

Until we found the one with the right price tag.  The deal he had spotted early that same morning.

It’s nothing fancy, to be sure.  But it’s not a $4000, 15-year old pop-up with no shower and no toilet either!

With the single slide-out extended, it’s really open.  And it has bunk beds!  Allowing us to sleep 7, if we want to.  And a decent size fridge.  

And a pantry!  Albeit an itsy-bitsy, teenie-weenie pantry.  But a pantry just the same. 

The towing capacity on our truck is greater than the weight of the trailer (that would be a deal breaker if the reverse were true, am I right?).

Before I know it, we sign on the dotted line.  Adding another “vehicle” to our seemingly growing fleet (which now includes 1 car, 1 SUV, 1 truck, 1 motorcycle, 1 scooter, and a partridge in a pear tree).

The next morning, we’re both up long before any rooster even considers crowing.  Keith scouring for towing-related things.  And me, quickly becoming Jeff Bezos’ best friend, as I fill our Amazon shopping cart with all the things needed to fill a second home.  On wheels.

There’s shelf-liner.  And dishes.  And utensils.  And sheets. And toilet paper. And a mop and broom and vacuum cleaner. And camp chairs. And on. And on. And on. Oh!  And the perfect key chain on which to hang the keys for our newest addition.

After the dealership completes it’s “make-ready” process (and that’s in quotes for a reason), it’s time to pick it up.  During our walk-through and “how to operate your RV” orientation, we discover that a couple of the items that should’ve been fixed, were not.  And it hadn’t seen a broom, let alone a sponge or drop of water (never mind that; Keith’s kids didn’t assign him his very first email address of “cleandad@ … .com” for nothin’.  It’s one of the many things I love about the man.)

I spend the entire drive home watching the RV in the side mirror, as if it’s going to detach itself and go flying down the highway on its own.  

The time needed to fix the noted items cut us short on time, so Keith dropped me off for an appointment and took the trailer the rest of the way home.

His solo venture is noteworthy because he hit a tree limb in our neighborhood and took out the TV antenna.  Before he could even put the truck in park!  Shame on the neighbor who left that limb hanging over the road anyway – we just had brush pickup in our area two days before!

Later that night, I’m scrolling through a FB group for RV newbies.  And wouldn’t you know?  Someone posted a question, “How many of you have damaged your RV on the way home from the dealership?”  Keith and I both have to laugh at ALL of the responses (including my own). 

And suddenly, we don’t feel so bad.

We spend the next several days outfitting the trailer.  Receiving 3-4 deliveries each day.  Unpacking, washing, storing.  Repeat. 

There is so much movement in and out of the house, that Topo (the black and white pup), who already suffers from extreme separation anxiety as it is, starts acting funny.  Even our housekeeper notices.  And given her love of our dogs, sends me a text after she’s left, asking if I noticed Topo is walking around funny and looks really sad.  

I agree that he’s unsettled, which usually happens whenever our suitcases come out of the closet.

After everything has been stored, and all amount of packing materials have been removed, I take Topo out to the RV to show him around.  He sniffs around, exploring almost every inch.  Satisfied, he stands by the door as if to say, “Okay, it’s all good now.”

And it is.  Because his tail returns to the upright position and the sadness has left his eyes.  I text our housekeeper to let her know all is well in Topo’s world.

Finally, it’s time for our maiden voyage.  Otherwise known as “the shakeout trip”.

“Plan B” (because Plan A for 2020 didn’t pan out) is ceremoniously christened.  Technically, we didn’t “christen it” in the way they do when launching a new sea-faring vessel.  Because we didn’t want to put a dent in the siding.  Because RVs.

The pups are loaded up.  And we’re off!

I again position myself so that I can keep an eye on the trailer as we travel the highway towards the gulf coast.

With every dip, bump, and pothole, expletives stream from my mouth.  Actually, the same two expletives every time.  One beginning with the letter ‘S’, the other with ‘F’.  Why that combination, I don’t know.

Our truck struggles to pull the trailer and both of us are a bit on edge because of it.  Literally, every 13 seconds (yes, Keith counted!), it shifts into a lower gear, revving the RPMs to a disturbing rate.

The lease on our truck is up in a couple of months and prior to taking our show on the road, we had pretty much decided we were not going to replace it.  Now … given the purchase of the RV and the truck’s performance, we’re thinking we’ll need a different truck altogether.

The gas mileage is for crap (as you might imagine) and we’ve filled up twice since leaving San Antonio and before arriving in Port Aransas (to be fair, we didn't start with a full tank).

Set up is a snap, given that the spot we’ve reserved is a pull-through and there is no backing up necessary.  Keith has single-handedly saved our marriage countless hours of therapy by making this one decision.

Because we’ve just left San Antonio, which had just seen three straight days with temps over 100º and heat indexes even higher, and because we’re at the Gulf Coast, with humidity levels much higher than we’re used to, we crank the A/C up on high, setting it to the coldest temp possible.

Around 2:00 a.m., I hear the A/C unit sputtering.  Struggling to blow out the soothing ice-cold air it was producing earlier in the day.  Sputtering and gasping, as if on its last breath.  And at 7:45, we wake up, both a bit sweaty and the A/C has gone quiet.

We have frozen the unit on night 1. 

Alas, a simple defrosting and we’re back up and cooling in less than an hour.

The remainder of our trip is spent equally enjoying time at the beach, fishing, and in the RV.

We discover that cooking is a bit of a challenge, what with the limited amount of counterspace.  At home, I have a slab and a half of granite to work on.  In the RV, it’s a matter of inches in which to prep a meal.  Still, I’m not deterred.  

Though Keith and I do bump into each other quite a few times as I’ve enlisted him as my sous chef while I cover the stove.

Still, I’m rather happy with our efforts.  We managed to cook the same type of meals we have at home.  

Except for when we got takeout from “the best chicken (place) in Port A”.  And the blueberry muffins we picked up for breakfast.  Because vacation.

We enjoy unlimited water (resulting in unlimited showers) since we’ve got hookups at the site.  And I’m already mentally preparing for the day when we’re boondocking (aka dry-camping or camping without hook-ups) and I have to rinse, turn off shower, lather, turn on shower, rinse.

I also learn about the necessity to use the vents both in the kitchen and bathroom as necessary.  As for the latter, that includes when showering!  (see – not TMI afterall!)

We check out others’ campsites to see their set-ups and begin yet another list of things that Jeff Bezos will appreciate us for.  That’s the whole purpose of the trip:  figure out what you need, what you don’t need, and how everything works.

Keith has also begun the process of comparing new trucks (Chevy, Ford, GMC).  What will tow Plan B easily, what’s most fuel efficient (is there even such a thing?), what’s reasonably-priced (again, is there even such a thing?)

After several weeks of waking up at ridiculously-early hours over the last few months, we find that sleeping in the camper is what dreams are made of.  Literally.  We both had the best night’s sleep, three nights in a row, in as many months!

The dogs have mostly adjusted well.  Topo, strange little bird that he is, is refusing to eat.  We’re not sure if it’s because he doesn’t like change.  Or doesn’t like the color of the collapsible dog food bowl we have.  And so, we are reduced to feeding him by hand.  He’ll come around eventually.

Bentley, is an entirely different story.  That slug isn't bothered by much.  He mostly serves as a nice little area rug or a cuddle-bunny.  Unless you mention the T.R.E.A.T. - word.  Only THEN, does he move rapidly.  He’s a little iffy when it comes to navigating the steps, but this too, will work itself out in time.

By the end of the trip, they’ve both claimed the space under the dinette as theirs.  And that includes while we’re sitting down for a meal or for a game of Rummy.  Both Keith and I are happy to have our furballs along for the ride.

It’s a good thing we’re headed home after three days, because they’ve now closed the beaches following a spike in Covid cases in the area.  Closed to vehicular traffic period.  Closed to foot traffic at night.

They want to blame the spike on San Antonians coming to the beach – they’ve even tracked cell phone data to prove as much.  Now ... I'm not saying this is the cause, but we saw plenty of locals not wearing their masks properly, if they were wearing them at all.  And that’s all I’ve got to say about that.

On Friday morning, we begin the process of breaking camp.  Which takes much longer than camp set-up.  Maybe because the good ol’ boy from the next site over came over to give Keith tips and tricks for packing up and storing the RV.  I’d heard that the RV community is very helpful and we appreciated him sharing his knowledge.

Along with the encouragement that eventually, we will get everything the way we want it and we’ll stop spending money on it and just enjoy it.  Jeff Bezos is not going to be happy.  

The drive home goes much smoother.  Keith had the insight to put premium fuel in the truck and it seems to have made all the difference in the world.  We’re cruising down I-37 at 75 mph without a care in the world.

Until …

I look in the side mirror.  Take off my sunglasses to look again.  And say to Keith, “The roof isn’t supposed to be billowing up like a canvas, right?”

We call the dealership to let them know we’re bringing it in and to expect us in an hour.

When we arrive, the service manager has gone for the day.  And the tech says he thinks it might be covered under warranty.  Ya think? 

In no uncertain terms, Keith tells him we need this fixed ASAP so we can get on the road again soon.

The next day, we return to the dealership to retrieve some things I had forgotten to unpack.  The service department is closed for the weekend.  But our salesperson says he’s not sure how long it’ll be before we get it back as there are 35 other repairs ahead of us.  But he has a solution.

He can put us in another RV, a used one that has no warranty, but is a little nicer than ours, so that we can get back on the road muy pronto.  Not a loaner, oh no!  He’s suggesting we TRADE IN Plan B, who we’ve only signed the papers on just 14 days ago and used for a grand total of 3.5 days.  I might add, that Plan B is now considered a ‘used vehicle’, so the value has already dropped.

Keith used to be a salesman.  In fact, he used to supervise this guy when they both worked for the same home builder back in the day.  He's got this guy's number.

We were just short of ugly when we told him we wanted it fixed and ready to be on the road by the end of next week. 

Within the hour, the service manager called.  And committed to working on it first thing Monday morning.

No sooner had we left the dealership, then we got a call from one of the local GMC dealerships.  Sure, we’ll come see what you’ve got to offer.  Some 5 hours later, we became the owners of a new diesel pickup which will pull Plan B near and far.

Our fleet grows by one.

And so boys and girls, that’s how we went from jet-setting to road-tripping.  If we can’t go international, there’s a lot of road to cover in the lower 48.  Might as well explore.

Screw you, Covid!