One of the not so secret joys among most full¬-time RVer’s is the lack of responsibility that comes with NOT owning a conventional home. Sure there are some cynics among us that can be heard mumbling, “If you aren’t fixing something, you aren’t Rving,” but by and large full time RVing means no lawns to mow, no walks to shovel, no driveways to seal, no mortgage payments to make and property taxes to pay, no walls to paint, no cracks to seal, no garbage disposals to replace, sewers to unplug or my personal favorite, no hassles with neighbors. If you don’t like where you are, you move.

Recently, I remember sitting in the steam room of the Dakota Sports Complex near Prior Lake, MN with a native Minnesotan discussing home ownership. He proudly proclaimed that while most people dream of a lake house, that he and his wife owned two lake homes. One was on nearby Prior Lake and another on a lake I have never heard of, not that unusual when one considers there are over 10,000 lakes in Minnesota. He explained that he and his wife live half the time at the Prior Lake house and half the time in his other lake home, driving three hours between them each week. He said he spent most of his time mowing the lawn at one place or the other and then went into excruciating detail explaining how he was remodeling one of the places. I forgot which one. When I stopped responding, running out of comments like, “That will be nice,” or “Oh, that sounds expensive,” he finally inquired about where I lived.

I explained that my wife and I don’t own a home and live in a recreational vehicle (RV). He responded in disbelief, “Yah mean you live in a camper?” His voice was clouded with a combination of astonishment and pity. He asked, “Do you really like that?” I tried to explain that we actually do enjoy the life style, but before I could get a word out, he was back to his two houses, then abruptly announcing that he had to leave to meet with a contractor, had lawn to mow and was having trouble with the septic system on one of the places. I was tempted to say, “Do you like that?” The world is full of irony, no doubt, but pointing it out every instance doesn’t make you sound especially brilliant. I decided to pass.

The world of full time RVing is not, however, without its bad days. Recently Sara and I were winding our way west on Interstate 90 in South Dakota at 60 mph when a car passed us, its occupants giving us the universal sign for “Your RV is exploding!!” It consists of bulging out both your eyes, flailing your hands out the window and pointing to the top of your rig and mouthing the words, “Holy Crap, yarh thing is falling apart!!!”

We pulled over to the side of the road after noticing what appeared to be red snowflakes blowing from the left side of the RV. Closer examination showed that the first four feet of the side of the rig was gone and most of the fiberglass insulation had blown away. The wood superstructure was exposed and not very super. A lot of it was dry rotted and some had fled with the insulation. We got back into the cab of the truck and had an animated discussion on a plan of action. Sara wanted to drive the RV into the ditch and abandon it, with an alternative of finding the nearest dump. Don countered with an explanation of the South Dakota litter laws and the fact that the title for the RV was in California and all the nearby dumps would be closed by late Saturday afternoon. Sara then played the “vanity card” with, “I am so embarrassed that I don’t want to be seen near this RV in its present condition,” and Don again countered with the observation that it was a very long walk to the nearest lodging.

Sara then indicated that we should just trade in this RV and buy a new one at the nearest RV center. Don again reminded Sara that we lacked the title and that the trade in value of our rig had probably been significantly reduced in the last half hour. Sara then shouted, “Then give them the damn thing and get a new one.” Further analysis determined that between the balance in our checking account and the general desirability of our rig in its present condition, both were at about the same level. The discussion ended with Sara declaring, “If you don’t take any of my advice, why the hell do you ask for it?” Actually her final comment before the “big pout” started lacked the above level of civility.

We had little choice but to limp into the nearest town: Mitchell, SD home of the Corn Palace, a residence that we considered but rejected because Sara pointed out with our luck, it probably had insects or mice, both of which she hates even more than an RV with its side missing. Mitchell has exactly one home improvement store, of which we were in desperate need, and wouldn’t you know, it was a Menards. No Lowes or Home Depot. Menards would have to do. The RV park desk person took one long look at our rig and hesitated renting us a site. I explained our predicament and she rented us a site for 2 day next to the dumpster, a fact that did not go unnoticed by us. The dumper was way too small for a whole RV.

I explained to Sara that this was going to be expensive but we had little choice. I found the Menards and first had to purchase a ladder ($143) and plywood skill saw ($158). I was down $300 and had not even started. After buying treated lumber, insulation, glue and caulk, cans of home foam, screws, a T square, utility knife, wire, framing staples, sand paper and numerous other supplies ($250) we started the repair.

I worked 12 hours the first day. It was in the high 90’s and we were in the sun. I removed the rest of the insulation, much of the dry rotted wood and started rebuilding the superstructure with treated lumber. Sara helped most of the day and kept me supplied with ice water. I finished installing the new insulation under the moon light.

The next day it was back to Menards (Sunday morning) for the all-important 4 x 8 piece of finish plywood. Cutting off the ragged edge of where the side panel of the RV tore off was a real challenge without a decent straight edge but we did our best.

The main reason for the sidewall blow out what that when the Rv was put together at the Fleetwood factory, the installers never put screws in the wall to attach it to the framework. That would mean they would have to deal with the screw heads in side wall. To avoid all that fiberglass work they just gob huge amounts of adhesive to the wall framework and push the wall into the glue. On the panel in question, they didn't push far enough or hard enough and the panel never made contact with the glue. It was attached to framework in at most about 3 places. The 60 mph wind got behind the panel and the rest was history. I USED SCREWS AND ADHESIVE !!!!!

An angel named David from Maine who had been watching our project came over and offered his help. We cut the plywood several times to get it to fit and finally by 5 in the evening, we had glued it into place. It was an almost perfect fit. After over $600 in materials and tools, and 20 hours in labor we were on our way. We will finish the repairs with a new skin of fiberglass over the plywood when we get to California. Most RV repair shops charge $100 an hour which would have meant over $2000 in labor alone.

The danger of smugness is that it often comes back to bite you. I was glad that I took a pass with the guy in the steam room in Minnesota.

Yes, Shit happens when you are RVing. Thank God not that often.