Every time a recreational vehicle passes me on the highway I dream about purchasing a motor home. Unfortunately, my husband doesn’t share my vision.
“Do you imagine yourself parking this imaginary RV?” he asks me.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I say, shuddering as I recall all of my near-misses parking the car in our garage. “You’d drive and I’d be the navigator. Or at least, I’d plug in the Garmin. Let’s not get hung up on details.”
In my RV fantasy my husband is behind the wheel, merging into traffic, backing up into tight camping slots and flushing out the sewage tank. $40,000 would buy a lot of fun.
Instead, $450 bought us a four-person tent from L.L. Bean. I appreciate our tent’s screened-in front porch for sunny or stormy weather. My husband approves of the full waterproof fly that is a marked step up from less expensive tents they sell at big-box stores. Our tent has served us well in national and state parks all over Washington.
But despite our wonderful tent, we are always at the bottom of the camping food chain at every campground we visit. It amazes me that the “everyman” pastime of camping so clearly reflects the economic divide of real life.
Our setup of a tent, sleeping bags, pads, chairs, stove, cooler and old dishes probably costs over $1,000 — which is a lot of money. Thankfully we’ve built our stash up over 14 years of marriage. Yet there are so many goodies we don’t own, like a kitchen-sink-cooking-station, a screened-in room, cots, zero-gravity recliners, twinkling camping lights, or camping essentials for a family pet. Our site always looks spartan compared to our neighbors.
And the RVers — oh, the lucky RVers. They have microwaves, televisions, barbeques, bicycles, pillow-top mattresses and surround sound. Many of them travel in caravans like they are their own private country club. I bet they don’t wake up with stiff backs. I’m pea-green with envy every time I pass their camping mansions, especially when I hear laughter and the merry sound of friendship.
Loud noises come from my camping site too — usually happy ones.
My husband points out that there is a lot to be said for being able to throw a tent in the back of the car and go. My son says that car camping isn’t real camping anyway. My daughter prefers backpacking trips where her dad and brother carry everything. I typically stay home for those adventures.
The last time we went camping my husband made the best spaghetti ever, complete with ground beef and boxed red wine. We ate next to our tent, sitting underneath a canopy of evergreens. We drank root beer from red plastic cups. Dinner was perfect. Or at least, it was just as delicious as our neighbors’.
My RV fantasies aren’t likely to disappear anytime soon, but roughing it has its own rewards. Plus, returning from a few days of tent camping always makes home feel like the Taj Mahal.
Jennifer Bardsley is an Edmonds mom of two. Follow her on Instagram @the_ya_gal, Twitter @jennbardsley, or at teachingmybabytoread.com.
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