As retirement approaches that RV lifestyle looks awfully expensive

By Donald H. Harrison

SANTEE, California– I don’t know if I will be able to afford my retirement dream of purchasing a motor home or luxury trailer and slowly working my way around  North America, driving no more than, say, 50 miles per day—a plan that would leave me enough time to find something interesting to write about in each place I visit.

Recreational Vehicles are quite expensive with some deluxe models easily matching the cost of a home on land.  Nor are RVs known for their good gas mileage; to the contrary, they tend to suck up fuel the way a thirsty desert traveler gulps water at the oasis.   Camp costs also are increasing, although there still is the option of going “primitive” – that is, pulling alongside the road and just parking for the night.

One of the many reasons I enjoy walking around the Santee Lakes is that you can meet the people who have made RVing their life style.  Around this time of year, these are folks from Canada or from the northern-tier American states who come to Southern California to avoid the winter.  In the summer, there often are people from Arizona, trying to escape the heat. RVers pull their rigs into a slot equipped with electrical, water, and sewer hookups, and then, depending on how fancy their rig is, or what equipment they’re hauling, they transform their vehicle into deluxe vacation getaway spots.

Electronically operated side compartments horizontally extend the RV’s interior living space; awnings turn the ground alongside the vehicle into patios; a well-placed chair or two on the roof of the vehicle can provide places for sunbathing and taking in the view.   Should you care to, you can put a mezuzah on your side door and a “Shalom” mat out on the ground.  If you want to follow other familiar routines, a dish antennae on the roof or at the edge of the camping space enables you to keep abreast of your favorite television series.

People at RV parks—or in adjoining recreational areas, such as the open-to-the-public Santee Lakes—tend to be friendly, relying on each other for information about road conditions, good places to eat (for those tiring of cooking in their vehicle’s small kitchens) and local places of entertainment.  “Where’d you come from?” and “Oh, what route did you take?” are wonderful conversation tools that can harvest all sorts of useful information.  More rarely, but it’s always possible, chance conversations with the fellow in the next camping space can lead to the development of a deep friendship.

I believe 50 miles ought to be the maximum any RV traveler averages in a day, assuming the object is to see the country in all its diversity.  What is the point of spending hours on end navigating a highway, too busy watching for road hazards to really enjoy the scenery, or to savor local flavors?

Imagine you’re happily retired and on the road.  The U.S.A. is approximately 3,000 miles wide.   That means at 50 miles a day you could traverse it in 60 days, or about two months, if you spent a day in each place.  If you’re not in any hurry, of course, you could take longer – really get the feel of a place before moving on.

My neighbor Bob Lauritzen and I ran into a fellow at Santee Lakes on Tuesday, March 8, who had been camping there for some time.  Even California’s constant rain, of late, has been a relief for him compared to the freezing cold temperatures and gigantic snow drifts of his home state.  The gentleman was walking his little dog by the lakes, and some things never change.  Two women walking in the opposite direction suddenly stopped to pet the little critter, commenting how so very cute he was.  I remember back from the years I was dating (some 45 years ago) that dogs were considered “magnets” for meeting ladies – and apparently they still are.

We had only an abbreviated conversation with the gentleman, but we learned that he lived somewhere near the Minnesota-Iowa state line, in farm county where if you don’t raise hogs, it’s because you’re growing corn.  Minnesota, according to its license plate, is “the land of 10,000 lakes” whereas the license plate of Iowa, true to the gentleman’s description, shows a farm on a snow white plate.

If you’ve ever watched a national political convention on television, you get a sense of what it’s like to have RVs from different states in adjoining camping spaces.  “Connecticut, the Constitution State, casts its votes for …. “; “Delaware, the First State, proudly announces its vote for….“ “New York, the Empire State and the first seat of the constitutional United States government  ….”  Every state, it seems, has bragging rights, and most of them do it on the vehicles that they license. Louisiana is “Sportsman’s Paradise,” Maine calls itself “Vacationland,” and New Mexico is “The Land of Enchantment.”  It’s a wonder that you can see RVs from these states anywhere else.

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Harrison is editor of San Diego Jewish World.  He may be contacted at donald.harrison@sdjewishworld.com