I’ve been thinking a lot about “the RV community” as we traveled the wide Texan expanse as we migrate from our beloved Austin, TX to Las Vegas and beyond. What is the RV Community? Is there even such a thing? Or are there just so many RVers out there, for so many different reasons, that we’re not really a united community in any way?
I think of motorcycle riders. If you’ve done any amount of traveling on the highway you’ll probably have noticed that folks on motorcycles almost always wave to one another. Whether full face masked and bent over a neon green crotch rocket or a tattooed biker, male or female, young and old, motorcyclists rarely fail to tilt there hands up off the handlebar and acknowledge one another.
RVers though, don’t particularly do anything of the sort. Certainly we can rarely see one another behind our tinted windows so waving as we pass on the freeway isn’t particularly customary. A good deal of people wave in the park, but it’s not nearly as ubiquitous as the two wheeled warriors mentioned above. This is probably because what drives people to ride motorcycles, whether it’s a Harley or a Ninja, is the freedom, the thrill, the nakedness of it all.
We RV to see the country and live a simpler life. You’ve got your snowbirds who are mostly RVing because it’s a cheap way to retire in the south while staying close to the family up north. Hunter/fisherman types just looking to get out and kill something for the weekend; the retired guy who always imagined writing a book on the open road; trailer trash who like to keep moving; gypsy folk and hippies following festivals around the nation — there are so many different types of RVers, with so many backgrounds, and so many reasons for being in a rolling home that no, I would have to argue that we’re not all part of a greater RVing community. The couple with the veggie oil motor have nothing in common with the young and drunk guys with the field of Busch cans that pour out of their rig every time the door opens.
And try rolling into an Airstream convention with your ’96 C Class and see how quickly they run you out of town.
It’s not that I don’t like the idea of a kinship between those of us who choose to roam the way we do, it’s simply that while common courtesy is the prevalent attitude among us all, a brotherhood we are not.