Last weekend, in an effort to provide a diversion from moving stress, our family trekked to a recreational vehicle show in Richmond. Actually, in hindsight, that activity was no less stressful than anything else going on right now seeing as there appears to be an infinite number of places for wee kids to hide in and around a camper. So, instead of carefully considering our RV options as we casually strolled amongst the rows of available models, we basically spent the whole time panic-wondering where our kids went and forcefully removing them from storage compartments and wheel wells. It’s almost like we never learn.
Anyway, I want a camper. Like, real bad. My desire for a little, tiny, itty-bitty home away from home has not abated over the past few years. Bob (finally!) is actually kind of on board with all of this, too. I think he just wants to camp as a family and he realizes this is the only way that is ever going to happen:
The rational part of my brain knows that I’ve surely romanticized the idea of driving cross-country with Bob and the kids and a camper in tow, seeing the sights and sitting around campfires and playing board games and every other thing you see all those happy families doing in commercials for RVing. In reality, our version would probably involve a lot more arguing about questionable campsites, backseat driving made worse by the fact that we’re TOWING A GIANT OBJECT and bitterness over whose stuck hand-washing all of the dishes.
However, I still want one. Even though I have Big Questions about where all that stuff from the potty goes.
So, I feel like we’re getting closer to actually making this all happen. That is if we can decide on which type of RV to purchase. See, my camper dream began so modestly: a little pop-up with a potty so I wouldn’t have to actually venture out into the wilderness in the dark of night to use the bathroom. Then, my dream got a little bigger and I thought that having a hard-sided camper would be best for maintenance reasons and to better protect from cougar attacks. Once I’d jumped to the full hard-sided category, I figured I may as well look at ones that have a separate bunk room for the kids so they’re comfortable in their own space and will therefore leave me alone when we’re on vacation. And then, before I even realized it, I found myself rolling my eyes at the nice salesman from the dealership when he patiently explained that “no, ma’am, the RV you like doesn’t come with its own washer and dryer.” I looked up and realized, to get everything I’m ideally looking for in an RV, we’re basically going to be towing an actual mobile home behind our (as yet un-procured) vehicle:
Even if we could decide on which type of camper to purchase, the fact remains we still need to purchase a tow vehicle to transport it. The four-door sedan Bob commutes in obviously won’t work and the minivan is a stretch even for a little pop-up camper. So, that leaves a vehicle purchase as the only option. Bob suggested we get a big truck and I said I was totally on board with this plan because then, in addition to the RV, we could also get a horse and if you have a horse, you kind of need a big truck by default. Besides, I helpfully pointed out, how are we going to transport the horse from competition to competition as Millie chases her Olympic show-jumping dreams without a big truck? Then, Bob suddenly became less enthused about buying a big truck and said he didn’t think we should get one anymore. So, then I was like, “Well, how are we ever going to tow an RV.” Then, Bob went to bed.
We are sort of at an impasse now and Bob has suggested a six month Think About It option. Which is his way of kindly suggesting I find something new to obsess about until we move. I’m impatient but have reluctantly agreed. Regardless, Charlie is fully on board with the RV/big truck plan.