The same day John Kerry spoke at Tacoma Dome Parking Lot A (see below), a bigass RV sale occurred at Lot C. Several of us strolled from the former event to the latter.
After all, there’s a big correlation between loving your country and wanting to see some more of it. And the RV biz is one of the industries that’ve been hurt real bad by Bush’s policies of manipulating fuel prices and decimating middle-class consumer power.
As I strolled the hundreds of vehicles on the lot, something landed inside me. Something I’d started to feel a couple of weeks before. I began to crave an RV lifestyle.
Yes. I, who’ve never owned a car, now want a vehicle I can live in. One I can take around these disunited states, in search of a more purple America.
I’d traverse the nation, writing about and photographing everything I saw. I’d have satellite TV and satellite Internet to keep me in touch with the larger world. I’d stay at Wal-Mart parking lots and in specialty RV parks.
Today’s motorhomes truly have everything in ’em. The problem: The way their particular “everything” looks.
So many motorhome interiors are designed with a gaudy, faux “colonial” look, like the sets of talk shows on Christian cable channels. I’d have to undertake serious redecorating work to refurbish one of these AARP-mobiles into something in which I’d want to be seen.
But then I found it. The vehicle of my dreams. And, of course, it comes from the one truly hip RV brand, Airstream.
Specifically, it’s the International CCD model, with a quasi-retro, quasi-Ikea interior. It’s got great fung shui, and even a computer desk. It’s a small space I could truly live in. It was love at first sight.
(It also happens to be the official traveling vehicle of The Simple Life, but that has nothing to do with my adoration for it.)
The downside to the Airstream: It’s not self-contained, so I’d have to also get a vehicle to pull it. And it couldn’t be a cute micro-car, but something with significant towing capacity (at least 2.5 tons). It’d be simpler, and probably cheaper, to get a parkable-sized motorhome (22′ or shorter).
The downsides to RVs in general: The initial cost, the operating costs (fuel, propane, etc.), the insurance costs, the depreciation, the regular chores (adding propane and water, dumping waste water and sewage), maintenance (particularly in the winter months), urban driving/parking hassles.
And if I tried to be a “full timer” (a permanent RV resident), I’d also need a permanent mailing address, a more-or-less regular parking spot, and a garage or storage locker for all the stuff I’d want to continue to own but wouldn’t want to cart around with me.
But damn it all, I still want one.
I’ll have to suffer through this craving until it passes, or until I rent one for a weekend to get over the craving, or until I fully succumb.
Fortunately, we’re nearing the off-season for this particular pastime, so I can put it into personal hot-stove-league status for a few months.
Should I fail to overcome the craving by then, I might start up a “Get Clark On the Road” donation fund.
