When I bought my motorhome, I had plenty of RV experience, having owned travel trailers for years. But once I bought the motorhome, my mindset changed. I had visions of ogling inspiring sights around every turn as I cruised across the country. There’d be mountains and oceans and rivers. There’d be wildlife and quirky little towns. I’d traverse the US in my spare time, being filled to the brim with wonder and awe each day, while still holding down a job as a digital nomad.
If you’ve driven cross-country before, you can feel free to go ahead and laugh at me now. I’m laughing at myself, you might was well join in.
Just after I bought the motorhome, my son was planning to move across the country, from Massachusetts to California. I realized that was a golden opportunity to utilize my new motorhome! There’d be four of us going: myself, my husband, our son and daughter, both adults, plus our two dogs. With four drivers, I thought we’d easily cover 14 or 16 hours a day. We’d reach the Golden State in the blink of an eye!
Those who weren’t driving could while away the hours in the seat-belted recliners with their electronic entertainment of choice. Or take naps, or stare out the windows at all the amazing sites!
Due to COVID, my son's school decided not to open, so our trip got cancelled just two days before departure. We were so disappointed!
Turns out to have been a blessing, because in retrospect, I can see that the trip was a disaster waiting to happen.
Why, you ask?
Over the next few months, as I used my motorhome for shorter trips along the eastern seaboard, I learned a few lessons.
Lesson 1: I’m Only Human
I honestly didn’t see a problem with scheduling a 16-hour driving day if we had multiple drivers. Each of us would take a 4-hour shift, and the day would be done!
I’ve since learned that the riding in the motorhome, even if you’re not driving, can be tiring. There’s road noise, there’s constant motion. There’s the tedium of sitting still for that many hours. And all that electronic entertainment? Cell signals vary as you travel, so interruptions are common.
And then there are stops. With the number of miles I was planning each day, we’d have had at least three stops, each of which would include filling the gas tank, walking the dogs, and stretching our legs. At a minimum, that’s a 20-minute stop for each of the three stops, even if I kick everyone's butt to make them hurry up, so that’s another hour added to our day.
I’ve learned that many RVers follow the 330 rule, which goes like this: On any given day, you cover 330 miles or less, or you make sure you’re done driving for the day at 3:30 in the afternoon.
When I first heard this rule, I thought it was crazy. Only 330 miles in a day? That’s less than 6 hours driving. I was used to working 8-hour days, at least. This sounded like a part-time job to me!
And 3:30? Really? That leaves move than an hour of daylight, even in the midst of winter. I understand that a lot of people prefer not to drive when it’s dark, and I’m one of them. But stopping before dark seemed like such a waste of time!
Now that I’ve lived the life for a while, I get it. See if this sounds familiar:
You plan to arrive at the campground at 3:30.
But you take a wrong turn, and suddenly the GPS adds 15 minutes, because you’re driving a big-ass rig with a tow vehicle, so a quick u-turn isn’t an option.
Then you run into road construction, and you sit, and sit, and sit, and sit, until finally it’s your turn to work your way through the mess.
You finally arrive at the campground, but there are already three vehicles checking in ahead of you, and each of the three humans associated with those vehicles has a minimum of 27 really stupid questions to ask the clerk.
One you get to your site, you find that the electrical service isn’t working, and you spend 20 minutes troubleshooting before you realize that you forgot to flip the circuit breaker.
Then you find that your water hose is no where to be found, and realize you probably left it at your last stop, so it’s off to the nearest Walmart to buy a new one.
Now it’s 5:30 and you're exhausted, and the thought of making the enchiladas that you’ve been looking forward to all day is enough to bring tears to your eyes. So, you microwave some leftovers instead.
And you’re falling asleep on the couch at 7:30.
I sincerely hope none of that sounds familiar to you, but its very familiar to me. And it’s the reason I try to stick with the 330 rule. It allows time for life to unfold in its own unpredictable way and prevents me from getting frustrated with myself (and everyone else in my vicinity) for being human.
Lesson 2: You Don’t See Much From the Road
There are some beautiful roads to travel in this country, where you can take in stunning vistas, see wildlife, and appreciate the countryside. But in between those, there are miles and miles of ugly pavement, littered shoulders, and barren wastelands.
Mostly what you see from the road is the road.
Don’t get me wrong. I still love driving. But I’ve come to understand that the best sights to be seen often can’t be seen from the driver’s seat. I’ve passed fascinating-looking sites just off the highway, but only gotten a 2-second glimpse of them.
I’ve driven mountain passes with breathtaking views on both sides of the road that I didn’t spend more than a split-second looking at because I knew that if I lost concentration, I’d send us careening over the edge.
I’ve seen deer, bear, porcupines, racoons and armadillos, but most of them were roadkill.
I’ve been stunned by the sheer magnitude of endless corn fields in the Midwest. And then gotten bored with endless corn fields. And finally reached the point where I wondered how bad an idea it was to drive blindfolded so that I wouldn’t have to look at endless corn fields any more.
I wholeheartedly believe the old adage that the journey is just as important as the destination. But to make that true, you have to slow down. You can’t smell the roses when you’re whizzing by them at 65 miles an hour.
Lesson 3: Jobs are Pesky
I’m lucky to have a job that allows me to work remotely. Most of my clients are based in Massachusetts, but I’ve worked for them while in Florida, Georgia, North Carolina, Maine, and just about every other state along the east coast.
Even though I can work from anywhere, I still have to put in the hours. Just because the Rocky Mountains are right outside my door, beckoning at me to come hike or bike or paddle, I still have to work.
My clients are happy to hear that I’m enjoying my view of the ocean, but they still want me to get the job done. So far, I haven’t found a client who is willing to pay me for not working.
And so far, I also haven’t found campgrounds who will let me stay for free, not to mention gas stations that’ll let me fill my tank for free.
So. That leaves me needing to work, even when I’m traveling. As an added kick in the teeth, it turns out I’m not as young as I used to be. Remember when you could stay up partying until 1 am, then turn up at work at 9 the next morning and be productive? Those were the days!
As previously stated, I’m frustratingly human, and also frustratingly middle-aged. When I bought the rig, I thought I’d be able get up early, drive for 6 hours, then park and spend another 6 hours working. Turns out that’s not the case. Each day is a choice: work or drive. I’d rather drive, but until that starts paying the bills, I’ve got to keep carving out time to earn a living.
Lesson 4: It’s All Possible
Despite all of these lessons, I’m still planning a cross-country trip, but it’ll be a much slower trip.
I’ll spend a day driving, them spend a day or two exploring. I’ll work for a few days, then pack up and do it again. It’ll take a long time to get across the country, but that’s OK. The idea isn’t to get there as fast as possible. It’s to drink in as much wonder and beauty as I can find along the way. There’s an expression that says: it’s not a sprint, it’s a marathon. That rings true. I need to remember that the goal is not to get there, the goal is to meander there.
Turns out you can have it all. You just have to take it slow.
Kimba
© Kimberlee Martin, 2022. All rights reserved.
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