RV Life: 6 Months Later
It’s probably time for our six month check-in seeing that we’re halfway into September. The last time we did one of these I was just getting back to Vegas and the mechanics were certain they were going to have me back on the road in no time. Well…
We’re still in Vegas.
Yep. Still here.
What’s up with the truck?
The great news is Dodge has finally returned the truck, just last week, and seems to finally have been able to pinpoint the cause of the failures. After replacing the intercooler and pinpointing a missing bolt under the heater grid, a dealership here in Vegas replaced all the sensors including MAF, check for leaks on hoses, replaced EGR valve, turbo and turbo actuator before suggesting a brand new PCM (powertrain computer module). While waiting for the PCM, the DPF took a shit. We moved the Dodge over to Prestige (where I originally bought the truck) and they replaced the DPF. What’s all this mean? Half the damn engine is brand new now. But after six months of constant misdiagnosis and continually throwing new parts at it, I don’t feel particularly compelled to hitch up and hit the road just yet. So far the truck is running great but I’ll feel much more comfortable starting with some small trips before we hit the open road again, which is super great because the trailer is a little fucked up after the wicked summer we just endured.
What’s up with the trailer?
First, the pipe from the shower to the grey tank exploded on July 4th weekend, spilling down into the compartment. You know the one we just repaired and resealed back in March. I had to crawl under the trailer and pull the tape and insulation off so that it could drain but the damage is unknown at this point. I guess those 118° summer temps came in handy though because I doubt it stayed wet for long.
Then there’s the electrical snafu. The trailer originally came with two run of the mill deep cell batteries and a main 50amp plug. In order to do just about anything untethered to an eletrical tower, we needed to overhaul the setup. We switched to lithium batteries, installed an MPPT for solar power (which I hadn’t bought panels for yet), and rewired the thing with a big bad generator and built in fans to circulate air and reduce CO2 emissions. This required us to cut the main power cable and install a box that switches between shorepower and auxilary. Well, the master switch got stuck and effectively rendered the entire trailer without a power source. This means we are sans power of any kind until I get my fat ass up on that roof and install those panels.
Lastly, there’s the still broken refrigerator. If you remember, the fridge took a shit but the freezer was still limping along. I suspected it was the thermistor (a gadget inside that slides up and down and determines internal temp). No worries, I got another off Amazon for $16 and installed it but of course that wasn’t it. I cleaned the vents and looked for leaks but they are none. Most likely this is an electrical board problem and I’m going to have to call out someone who actually knows what they’re doing.
Aside from the big three, there seems to be a lot warping and damage just from the fluctuation in temperature that I have to inspect before we get on the road again. I popped inside the other day as it has dipped below 100° here but the inside is still just completely miserable and without power, I’m only in a position to work on it in the daylight.
Camping sure is fun!
How about the travels?
Well, since I haven’t had a car since June 8, we’ve haven’t done shit. In fact, we’ve done less than shit. But now that the truck is back home, we’re hoping to make up for lost time and get back out there once the weather calms a little. I’ll be hitching up this week just to tow with the truck again and see if the fixes really are fixed. Putting the engine under duress should shake loose any problems it might still have and if it doesn’t, well I’ll be damned!
The weather is beginning to cool so we’re hoping to get out to Silurian Lake (just south of Death Valley) in the next couple weeks followed by a run up to Pioche to see Cathedral Gorge State Park. Easing back into the camping life should be a breeze but the real test will be our next big adventure: South Padre Island. if everything goes as planned (which it inevitably never does), Cutie and I will be taking a month long trip back through the southwest before the weather gets dreary AF. We’re retracing our steps through the top half of Arizona since we missed the Grand Canyon, Meteor Crater, and a handful of other stops, zipping back down through the middle of nowhere New Mexico, and then following the border to Big Bend National Park. We’re going to chill out on Padre Island, get some rest and relaxation, and see the sights. Coming back home we’ll hit Austin, cruise around Texas a little, and definitely stop at Carlsbad Caverns since we missed that last time too.
What have I learned since going full-time?
I wouldn’t do it again. At least not in the order I did it.
Living as a homeless nomad in a moving vehicle is not for everyone. At first, it sounds awesome. A new place everyday. Infinite new experiences, a different view to wake up to each morning, endless freedom. But that’s just the tip of the full-time iceberg and the rest isn’t so dreamy. The truth is trailers are built like straight shit, no matter how nice you buy them. They’re slapped together with Elmer’s glue and I have Ikea furniture tougher than mine. Everything is always broken, and I mean every God damn time you open your eyes. It’s a lot for two people to manage but for a solo, it’s damn near impossible. And all that free time you thought you’d have is now used trying to fix whatever latest fuck up is taking place.
Moving from a house with central HVAC and running water, it’s more than a light adjustment. If you have to run the AC in the trailer, you can’t talk on the phone or watch TV because it’s too loud. When you go to sleep, the ceiling is damn near head height and the turning on and off of the unit sounds like a diesel engine. You have to plan to take a shower or wash dishes and make sure you turn your water heater on in time, but don’t forget to turn it off or you’ll burn it up. You have to be ever mindful of what’s plugged in and what you’re using, constantly doing the math so you don’t overload the generator or run the batteries down. Heat is a wildly high energy output so make sure everything else is off before you make coffee or use the microwave or the generator will overload. And whatever you do, make sure you unplug the coffeemaker as mine has an auto setting and has crashed my electrical numerous times.
I look back to mornings in the house when I’d open the slider and my little dog would run back and forth, in and out, and my fat cat would sprawl himself out on the cool pavement and soak up the morning rays or sit in the window and cack at the birds. That’s all over now. My dog has very little room to run and I hesitate to let her loose in new environments because you never know what’s out there in the wild. A cougar, coyotes, a large hawk could snatch her in a second. The cats went from an entire house to less that 100 square feet on top of each other. But mostly it’s the quiet that I look back and miss. Because no matter how insulated you think that trailer is, it isn’t. You’ll never sit in silence again. Either its neighbors in the RV spot next door, people riding ATVs through the trails, the wind outside, or even just the constant noise of the electical. The best you can do is go lay down in the forest and close your eyes because living in a trailer is the noisiest thing I’ve ever experienced.
Should I rip the bandaid off and tell you how unbelievably expensive it is too, or maybe save that one for next time?
What’s the takeaway here?
Just make sure you know what you’re doing. Don’t jump into something, especially if you don’t know anything about it. If you’re sure you’re about this life, start the transition slowly. Keep a place to act as your launchpad. You have no idea how draining full time travel is and how amazing it feels to just come home and hit pause. Start with small trips. Start with a small rig. Do yourself a favor and just start small, period.