Background
Maybe a bit of background is in order. I love to travel. As
kids my parents would pile me and my two brothers in a station wagon. Yes, the
one with the fake wood stickers and the rear facing seat. The seat we, of
course, fought over. We’d climb over the middle seat and wage war until the
losers slunk back to the middle seat in defeat. Not to blow my own horn, but I
usually won. I’m the oldest, but I was also the meanest and had no problem
fighting dirty, even at a young age. Being the only girl didn’t stop me.
I’d sit back there, occasionally slapping one of my brothers
if they dared encroach in my air space. I believed in the sanctity of my air
space surrounding me. I could catch the slightest breath in the wrong location.
No boy cooties allowed! Now it’s called personal space. My brothers still suck
about it and we’re all waving our fifties goodbye.
I digress. From my throne in the back of the station wagon,
I watched the country go by. I don’t remember camping in anything but the
pop-up, but I’m sure we did. My parents were so proud of that damned thing. We
camped every year, travelling across the United States.
I remember brushing my teeth in rest areas, streams in
National Parks and generally running free. I can truthfully say, I’ve run wild
in almost every state of the union you can drive to. We stopped to drink from
natural springs along the highways, admire the views from scenic view points
and hide from bears in Yellowstone.
One thing I remember most is dad refusing to stop the car
unless the car needed gas or someone was about to wet the seat. When we did, it
was side of the road relief. My brothers had it easy. I had to find a way of
perching without getting my clothes wet. It was the beginning of my hatred of
camping, I’m sure.
Growing up, by the time I got into high school, I no longer
went camping with my family. Instead, I would fly out to visit friends or
family. Occasionally, I was allowed to stay home with minimal supervision.
Either my great grandma, my grandpa or my aunt would stop by and make sure I
was alive and fed. Obviously, I survived.
So now, I flew instead of camping. I still didn’t have to
pay for a place to stay or food. Family and friends just sucked me into their
lives as an almost adult.
Then, I grew up. I still loved to travel. I’ve been to
Japan, China, Tasmania, Diego Garcia, Philippines, Hawaii and lived in Orlando,
Florida and Southern California for a time. I regularly travelled up and down
the Pacific Coast Highway in California.
My travelling only came with a minimal price. Five years of
my life in the United States Navy. I would never, ever change that. Some of my
best times as a young adult were in service to Uncle Sam. I made lifelong
friends and it encouraged my wanderlust.
A few years later, life changed again. Married with children
didn’t stop us from travelling. We regularly made the trip from Wisconsin to
California, in a Geo Metro. Great on gas, not so much on space. Many were the
night we slept in it on our way across the country. We’d arrive at our
destination tired, hungry and needing showers. We could make the thirty-hour
trip in less than forty-eight hours. But it definitely took a toll on us all.
But even saving on hotels didn’t change the fact that we had to eat.
We’d pick a destination for the night. I was on hotels.com,
expedia, priceline, booking.com, and kayak checking out who had the best deals
for a hotel or motel that night. Oh, and don’t forget the hotel and travel
magazines you could find at the rest areas. They usually had some of the best
deals. I had woefully low standards, though. The all mighty buck and a vacation
budget helped steer my choices.
I always got a hotel with some type of breakfast. A ten-dollar
higher price for the room was worth not spending another twenty dollars on
breakfast and having to eat while we drove. Then, consider lunch and dinner. We
easily could spend thirty to fifty dollars on food and did. Sometimes the only
thing open were fast food restaurants while we travelled to our destination.
The kids didn’t mind. It was a treat to them.
A fourteen-day trip, twelve in hotels, plus two to three
meals a day for four people was around eighteen hundred dollars. That was without
tickets to amusement parks, museums, entertainment, and parking costs. If we
managed a vacation under three thousand dollars, I’d be shocked. We usually
went on at least one vacations a year. Sometimes more.
The worst part? Eating out upset my stomach. Nor did I sleep
well even in the priciest hotel.
I started thinking that maybe camping wouldn’t be such a bad
thing. Maybe.
But, I needed to make sure. It was time for research! I had
a round figure of how much we spent on vacations. Could a camper really save me
money? It was a major concern. Not to mention retirement loomed ever closer.
So, I started delving into the world of campers.
Did I have any clue on what I wanted? Well, not really. I
knew what I didn’t want.
No popup camper due to the night mosquitos nearly ate us
alive as a child. No tents. As an adult, I didn’t want to fall asleep or
wake up on the ground.
So, what do I do now?