Why you’ll never see me “vacationing” in an RV

We have relatives who recently squandered their children’s inheritance invested in a camper RV luxury motor coach. And not just any motor coach – a really pimped-up, top-of-the-line model. Worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. It’s so big, you practically need a CDL in order to drive it.

You also need a seriously pimped-up bank account in order to operate and maintain it. I mean, these vehicles have tanks that hold, like, 150 gallons of fuel, and if you’re fillin’ it with diesel, at close to $5 per gallon, that’s, like, seven hundred bucks! And to say they don’t get great gas mileage is like saying the traffic in Washington, DC is a little rough sometimes.

Nevertheless, these folks lovelovelove their luxury motor coach. And really, good for them! They have always enjoyed cross-country trips, and now they can make those trips with their tushies cradled in deluxe leather captain’s chairs. They have all the comforts of home, right there, in their vehicle! Wherever they go! They feel this is a big selling point.

I, however, feel differently.

I got to thinking about motor coaches and that whole subculture. I admit to not having experienced it firsthand, which makes me wholly unqualified to judge. (But of course, that won’t stop me from speculating!) I haven’t camped since I was a kid, and despite the fact that I have three boys of prime camping age, have so far avoided having to camp with them. My aunt and uncle take them, God bless ‘em, which lets us off the hook.

You see, to me, roughing it is a motel without free Wifi or a bar on the premises. But, the RV set counters, you’re not really “roughing it” when you travel in a motor coach. Why, some of these so-called campgrounds have luxury amenities for their more affluent, bus-drivin’ customers! You’ve got all the comforts of home, right there at your, um, campsite. They have, like, cable TV hookups, internet access, and I hear some of the really nice campgrounds even offer maid service. All the comforts of home. (Or a hotel room.)

Because I tend to obsess, I decided to crunch some numbers. Let’s say you live in Washington, DC, and you want to visit Gatlinburg, Tennessee. Because, you know, nothin’ says “Wholesome Americana” like a trip to Dollywood, at the foot of the Great Smoky Mountains. It’s about 500 miles to get there. Let’s say you drive your camper luxury motor coach at 55 miles per hour, with diesel costing around $4.65 a gallon (priced in Blacksburg VA), and you get 10 miles per gallon (a generous estimate). You will use 50 gallons of gas, costing $232.50, and it will take you about 9 hours to make the drive. You won’t have to stop because you can pee right there in the coach! See how great that is? Just like home!

However, let’s say you decide not to drive your bedroom and kitchen the whole way to Gatlinburg. You’re used to travelling in style, so you’re driving an Acura TL. (Remember, you like leather seats to cushion your tushie.) You get 20 miles per gallon, but you have to fill up with premium unleaded at $4.10 per gallon, so you’ll spend $102.50 on 25 gallons of gas. But, you can drive faster because, hey, you’re in an Acura, and also, you want to get the hell off of that gawdawful, neverending stretch of I-81 before you get run over by someone driving a gigantic motor coach a tractor trailer, so at a conservative 70 mph, you’ll get there in about 7 hours. Of course, you’ll have to stop to pee (you can’t pee in the Acura) and eat (drive-thru?), so maybe it’s more like 7.5 hours.

To recap? The motor coach costs $130 more in gas and takes almost 2 hours longer. But hey, once you get to Gatlinburg, you can roll into a “luxury RV campground” (an oxymoron if ever there was one), throw ‘er in park, and you’re THERE! No need to break a sweat toting your luggage up to your hotel room! And no need to blunder around in search of a restaurant! Nosiree, you can just rummage around in your full-size refrigerator and COOK DINNER and then CLEAN UP THE DISHES, right there in the same vehicle you’ve just spent the past 9 hours trapped in cushioned in luxurious transit. Which you could have done at home, too. Right? All the comforts of home! And all the chores, too.

Or – stay with me here – you can park the Acura, request assistance with your luggage, tip the nice guy who helps you, then head out to experience some of the region’s finest Appalachian cuisine. (Also, possibly, an oxymoron.) Because, remember, You got there almost two hours sooner and with $130 more in your wallet. And, you won’t have to do the dishes afterwards.

All that math made my head hurt, so I’m not going to get into the relative costs of a nice hotel versus the “luxury campground” ($45 per night for a peak-season waterfront space for the motor coach), or the delta between eating out and buying groceries and cooking your own food. In fact, the food argument could also be less about sustenance and more philosophical – because what do you learn about Gatlinburg by eating spaghetti in your motor coach? Zippy, that’s what.

See, here’s my thing. When I vacation, I’m trying to get away from the so-called comforts of home. I want to try new things, see new places, maybe meet some new people. I don’t want to cook or clean up or be bugging the kids to pick up their toys and make their beds, and I sure as hell don’t want to do their laundry. Because if I’m “keeping house” in my motor coach, I’m not really vacationing, I’m just doing the same things that I would be doing at home. Plus, I am sleeping in my vehicle. And dining in it. And also? Shitting in it.

And there’s the true dealbreaker for me. I’m sure that RV’ing is a fun subculture. It’s a way to roadtrip in grand style. See the good ole U S of A. But at the end of the day? You still have to empty out the euphemistically-named “black water tank.” Yes, that’s the tank where all your “bathroom waste” goes to stay until you get to the aptly-named dump station and can evacuate your tank. Or, as one experienced RVer noted, the “solid nature of the waste” can cause blockages and odors, so it’s important to empty your tank when it becomes three-quarters full.

And that? That’s just plain nasty. Because after I flush the toilet, I don’t want to have to ever think again about what went down.