Snow covers the highway on a springtime RV trip in British Columbia.
Photo credit: Sharlene Minshall
It was a simple life…
At least in my memory it was. In looking back on twenty years as a single, solo full-time RVer, it certainly seems like there was a minimum of problems, but then again, my memory isn’t too swift these days. Having just gone through all the hullabaloo of selling the house, packing all my precious “Early Halloween” belongings in the back of my car, dropping and changing accounts with no permanent address, and on and on, I was thinking about my earlier “Simple Life” on the road.
Well, OK, so I do recall two transmission failures, a few blown tires, landslides, window-peeking bears, and there was that time I pushed a foot of snow on a mountaintop coming back from Canada’s Northwest Territories…and almost got creamed by a semi.
But it was a simple life…
To be independent enough to enjoy boondocking spots, one must listen to more experienced RVers. With repeated visits by early morning distributors of teensy black markers (An inordinate amount of chocolate sprinkles on my doughnuts?), I needed advice. Another RVer assured me that cleanser discourages mice. I sprinkled Comet heavily around the tires and went to bed.
I awakened from a deep sleep, aware of gnawing and gnashing, a familiar sound and yet in my foggy state, I didn’t want to believe the origin. Deep in my heart I knew…I climbed gingerly down the ladder and found the mellow yellow cheese-scented trap. Sadistically spreading smooth, reduced-fat, pungent peanut butter across the spring, I placed it in a familiar hangout, sort of a “Cheers” cheese bar near the steering column. Little did my visitors know how deadly were the canapés.
Hardly had my bare toes curled cringingly on the cold rungs back up to my beckoning bunk when BINGO! Another mouse bit the dust. In respect for the dead, I named it The Honorable Number 16.
While Comet is great for scrubbing sinks or tubs, as a rodenticide, it failed miserably. But then again, only clean feet scampered throughout my rolling residence.
But it was a simple life…
Always be willing to learn. In this case, I learned a whole new set of phrases: son of a sea-going pelican, for crying tears in a bucket, and jeez peas and blood clots (from my medical-secretarial days). A leak with an accompanying drip, drip, drip had developed in the sewer system. Tightening the hose clamps didn’t solve the problem. A new wastewater valve brought promise.
I sprayed the ever-faithful WD-40 on the nuts and bolts and gingerly coaxed them to let go of many years worth of rust, road oil, tar and whatever else accumulates on the underside of an RV. After bruising my knuckles on the unusual angles required to keep the wrenches in place, getting a crick in my neck from lying directly under the gunky valve, and two hours of calling upon a complete inventory of the above-mentioned phrases, I got the old black water tank valve off. My pretzeled back and scraped knuckles were as exhausted as the rest of me and dirty, well, we’re talking filthy here, but I felt really elated with having actually replaced that black water valve…and the best part, it didn’t leak anymore.
But it was a simple life…
Towing a car with a motorhome presents a whole set of problems but nothing like when I decided I wanted to turn at the previous corner and explore a different route. The highway seemed amply wide to turn the entire entourage around and I had clear vision for quite a distance.
It would have been a piece of cake except for that hunk of cement hidden in the tall grass. I straightaway ran back to unhook the car still in the middle of the highway. Thankfully, the ball and coupler hadn’t jammed. As soon as I lifted the hitch, the car took off backwards. That’s what happens when cars in neutral are on slight hills. Since it could have caused me to feel run down, I didn’t pursue it. It hit a solid berm and stopped. I immediately got in the RV, straightened it and parked where I could bring the car around to hitch it again.
What did I learn? First, that I should never do a uey in the middle of the highway because it is against the law; second, that I must always set the emergency brake before unhooking, and third, I’ll always remember that traffic increases exponentially in that situation. Something else sticks in my memory. A lot of traffic passed by and nobody stopped to see if they could help or give advice. Hmmm.
But it was a simple life…
While boondocking on the beach, I heard a “click, click, click,” which meant the refrigerator wasn’t lighting. I was always very tuned in to sounds while boondocking. I turned the propane off for a few seconds. For whatever reason, it would sometimes light, then turn back on. The magic formula didn’t work.
Since I wasn’t into rummaging around in the dead of night on a Mexican beach to fix an expired refrigerator, I waited until morning. All the little gismos, whatchamacallits, and connections were secure. Peering through the window where the pilot light lives, I cleaned six months worth of grime from anything reachable with an old toothbrush. With the ice pick, I knocked off the residue. The fingernail file was thin and flexible enough to get in and clean it off even better.
With all this accomplished, I blew in its ear and whispered, “Light up my life and you can travel with me forever.” It lit. I’m not sure whether it was my great expertise at fixing things, the whispers, or the prayer I said before I turned on the propane, but I wasn’t asking questions.
But it was a simple life…
Have you ever walked from the bathroom to the kitchen or from the driver’s seat to the living room and forgotten why you were there? I mean, how long does it take to travel ten steps or less? How often have you returned to get an item you put there five minutes before, only to find it gone? The Menehunes hide items under newspapers, behind saltshakers, or if the lost item is a pair of glasses, on your forehead.
The one thing good about a fading memory is saving money. If you buy two movies, two books and two magazines, you’re set for life. By the time you get through reading or seeing the second one, the first one is only vaguely familiar and it is a pleasure to go through it again. If editors weren’t getting younger and younger, I could get away with writing only two columns a year. Younger people have memories like elephants.
Now that I’ve come to the end of this column, I probably should tell you to turn the page for “the rest of the story” but I forgot what it was, and by the way, tell me again, just who are you? God Bless and I wish you a “very simple life.”
Sharlene Minshall’s first novel, “Winter in the Wilderness” (in e-book & hard cover), and the fourth edition of “RVing Alaska and Canada” are available through Amazon.com. Follow her blog, “The Silver Gypsy” at rvlife.com.
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I always enjoy reading what you write, but this one gives me quite a bit to think about. I will (I hope) resolve my disability application in the next month, and then I will have decisions to make. Living in one place has its own complications and problems, as you have noted. Apartments have somewhat less than owned housing, but the scenery never changes. They are cheaper than full-timing only if one lives very simply. I am capable of that, but the unchanging scenery remains, along with at least one season that I don’t like in any given place. The advantage of the road is that I can still be a minimalist, but with variable scenery and climate. Thanks for the reminder that less is not more but may well be better.
You are so right, Calvin. I wish you the best on getting back “On the Road Again!” It was a fun lifestyle. Charlie
My wife and I just downsized to a 26ft. trailer with two slides, sold our home and most everything, quite an adjustment for us and our two small dogs.
Hi Glen, Since you say you “downsized to a…,” I assume you have already sampled the RV life style. That is a good start. Although it is unusual to “downsize” rather than “upsize” when you are heading out as full-timers, hopefully you already know that you can get along together in this smaller-than-a-house life on a full time basis. It can definitely be an exciting and fulfilling time for you and your wife as you experience traveling this amazing country of ours. I wish you well and hope to hear how you are doing from time to time. I really miss RVing. Charlie
I have a Business Consulting Client who designs both Custom & LARGE Trailer Tents and Car-Top Tents, and I would like to explore a “Conversation for Possibilities” with you – Sharlene Minshall – about WOMEN you’ve encountered during your RV Journeys who were GOLD PROSPECTING.
I have a hunch that it might be a NEW Trend among Women who have the Time, Money and LOVE Nature – but do NOT want to be driving a BIG RV.
Your thoughts – suggestions would be welcomed. THANKS for a very entertaining – and CAUTIONARY TALE for a novice like me, who once spent a week in a 26-ft RV parked next to my client’s home near Colorado Springs – so I didn’t have to SQUEEZE into that Teeny Tiny Shower to get clean. But I really do CRAVE a Road-trip — took two small children in 1969 from Boston to Banff with pop-up tent – and every 3rd night in a Holiday Inn! THANKS, again.
Hi Marilynn, When I had sold my AZ house and knew I would be heading NW, I looked into getting a tent affair that would fit over the back door that lifts up on my car, then the footprint for the tent was a 9 X 9. I was sure that would be too big and heavy for me to handle but searched everywhere on the Internet and couldn’t find anything smaller. I finally did have the chance to talk with a salesman and he said there was nothing on the market that would fit my 2005 Chrysler T & C so I gave up.
I know a lot of women who are buying these small “teardrop” type of trailers and seem to love them. They are quite unique. I used a 9 X 9 regular tent in 2009 for a 12,000 mile trip around the USA for over 4 months. I probably stayed in the tent only 1/3 of that time because I was visiting fam and friends and when the weather was bad, I didn’t try to put up the tent.
I don’t recall meeting any women on the road who were gold prospecting on their own. Plenty of couples were doing it.
I’m not sure I answered your question but let me know. You can e-mail me directly at silvergypsy@earthlink.net. Thanks for your note. Sharlene Minshall
I have used such a tent with two 1995 Grand Caravan minivans. The specific model I used was Cabala’s Deluxe Truck Tent, which is no longer available. A search for “SUV tent” will bring up current tents that are similar. The Cabela’s tent was 10′ x 10′ and my wife and I assembled it easily in about ten minutes including stakes and guy lines. It weighed considerably less than the Eureka Copper Canyon we bought later. I am 5′ 2″ tall and not especially health; my wife (soon to be ex) is pretty close to that description. My particular plan for life on the road is to get another one of these SUV tents and a minivan and just go back to what I used to do. I do not know how much interest women have in using a tent like that, but I have and will again.
Hi Calvin, I don’t know how the “1995 Grand Caravan minivan” compares to my Town and Country, but I was unable to find a fit when I was looking and the truck tents would not have worked at all. I will try again because now that I’ve made my move to the NW, I would really like to go out for a couple nights at a time and there are marvelous places to do that right on the beach here.
The difference between your situation and mine were those four little words, “my wife and I.” In the small print on the 2009 tent I used, it said that two people were needed to put it up. I am not two people (although some days I am “beside myself”). Thanks for the info and good luck with your plans. Charlie
I have not tried those tents that fit a truck bed. Maybe the name was changed for clarity. Anyhow, the kind I used fits over the open rear hatch.. They are freestanding and fairly easy to detach and reattach. The first time we used ours “in real life,” once we had laid it out, I began staking the tent down. When I looked up, my wife had already done everything else but the guy lines. I’m not worried about doing it solo, even with my short arms and health issues.
Grand Caravan and Town an Country are just different names for the same vehicle, one is a Dodge the other a Plymouth.
Not precisely. The Town and Country is a Chrysler. My oldest brother owned both; he says the T ‘n’ C is the “deluxe” version, featuring many standard “touches” that were options or not available on the others. The Grand Caravan is the Dodge and the Grand Voyager is the Plymouth (identical to each other.) The Caravan and Voyager (non-Grand) suffered from 4-cylinder engines that almost invariably blew up, at least back in the mid-90s.