Pictures courtesy of the writer

For an adventurous couple, the street to a dream buy will get a bit rocky.

The white, egg-shaped camper was hitched to my truck on a residential road close to downtown Asheville. After solely two hectic weeks from concept to buy, I tentatively handed a cashier’s examine to Kenny, the pleasant personal vendor. My spouse clutched the title to a 2021 Casita Spirit Deluxe, a 17-foot fiberglass journey trailer. The one factor left was to retract the tongue jack and drive away—no small feat given my restricted expertise towing occasional raft and kayak trailers.

Kenny was elevating the electrical jack after we heard a nasty clunk. The interior metal leg and foot plummeted to the bottom. Three pairs of eyes immediately widened.

“It will possibly’t be damaged,” muttered Kenny. “It’s solely a 12 months previous.”

Kenny appeared genuinely shocked and embarrassed. However after confirming the jack was undoubtedly damaged, it was exhausting to shake the sensation that we had been ripped off. Frankly, it didn’t add up. We had been standing exterior Kenny’s good house, the place we’d spent the previous 20 minutes in his kitchen, doing paperwork and chatting about touring throughout the nation. Kenny had repeatedly insisted the whole lot was in working order. This being our first camper, I hadn’t thought-about testing the jack throughout our inspection.

“I’ll pay for it,” stated Kenny, additionally apologizing a number of occasions. “Restore or substitute. Simply let me know.”

Now we apparently owned a flippantly used camper that couldn’t be taken off the truck. Nor might we drive the 5 hours house with a jack foot dragging down the freeway like a sparkler. A fast cellphone search confirmed an RV superstore about 20 miles south. I used cam straps to retract the jack, at greatest a dangerous short-term repair. 

And we had been off! Very slowly, that’s, with huge turns by the slender downtown streets. The transmission was in S4, with the facility button on, to forestall early upshifting and the low torque of overdrive gears. I fastidiously accelerated onto the interstate, making an attempt to get a really feel for pulling a 3,000-pound egg—hopefully not a rotten one. 

***

“Possibly it’s time to get a camper?” I had stated to my spouse two weeks earlier, after stumbling throughout a bit of freelancing money in a type of digital pockets apps. All of a sudden, I noticed what some would name monetary disorganization might be conveniently recast as monetary self-discipline. Maybe I might use this tow-able workplace to supply backcountry seminars about socking away cash in simply forgotten icons on one’s cellphone.

I figured it would take a leisurely 12 months or two from concept to buy. It was early November 2022. The frenzy of early pandemic impulsive camper shopping for was over. Now appeared like the correct time to observe for the sell-off. Happily, I’d already spent years narrowing in on the goal—and never simply with on-line analysis.  

Every time I noticed a Casita within the wild, I mainly stalked it like a non-public detective. I examined the two-piece fiberglass development, basically a high bowl positioned over a backside bowl, which helps cut back leaks. I peered inside and crawled underneath parked Casitas. Sure, I often requested the homeowners first. A few of them later regretted inviting me inside, the place I carried out crime-scene-level investigations. I even adopted a number of Casitas on the open street, chasing them over mountains and throughout tough deserts. Primarily based upon the nimble maneuvering by the tow-vehicle drivers, maybe to shake the tail, I knew the light-weight Casita was the one. 

Inside a number of hours of looking on websites like Fiberglass RVs for Sale and RV Dealer, an ideal match miraculously appeared—a Casita Spirit Deluxe, solely 5 hours away, with the precise options desired. Excessive-lift axle and alloy wheels that would deal with all-terrain tires for backcountry boondocking. House for a full mattress. A/C and furnace. Mini kitchen with fridge and dinette. A rest room with bathe that—if a six-foot individual like me geese whereas bending on the knees—virtually has vaulted ceilings. 

“I’m an previous hippie from California,” defined Kenny throughout our calls. The camper was accessible however with a catch. He and his spouse had been semi-retired, splitting time between the California coast, Asheville, and Quebec. The camper was with them in Canada, and they might promote it in two weeks, upon return to North Carolina. Ready for them had been a dozen native events foaming on the mouth, able to pounce. After hitting it off with Kenny on the cellphone, and verifying issues with images and web sleuthing, I settled on a dangerous plan of action: a deposit to grab the camper away from the nearer locals. 

As soon as the date was set, I spent each spare second researching something related. I interrogated pals with campers and trailers. I learn numerous on-line articles. I even rode my bike across the neighborhood, speaking to anybody with a camper who didn’t run me off their garden. Within the span of 10 days, I linked a ScanGauge II to observe transmission temps. I opened up my truck’s dashboard, and sifted by wires, to put in a Redarc brake controller. That method, the Casita’s digital brakes would work on our lengthy drive again to the coast. I picked up an adjustable hitch mount to stage the trailer. Whereas my spouse drove us to Asheville, I hurriedly reviewed YouTube movies about towing the factor.  

Flash ahead 5 hours. My spouse was within the passenger seat, and I used to be behind the wheel, towing our very first camper. My major targets had been principally about avoiding issues:

curbs, jackknifing, divorce. As I pulled into Tenting World, an RV rookie with a busted tongue jack, I used to be flooded by acquainted reminiscences. After I discovered to whitewater kayak over 20 years in the past, I most likely flipped and swam roughly 12 million occasions. After I started mountain biking over 15 years in the past, I went over the handlebars on my very first journey. After I began backcountry snowboarding over a decade in the past, I ended up sliding down a mountain on my butt. New issues are powerful and barely go as deliberate.

“It’s achieved for,” identified the service technician. The electrical jack had been left uncovered for 18 months, which allowed rainwater and ice to infiltrate the mechanism. All of a sudden, I recalled seeing RVers flip a bucket the wrong way up to guard their electrical jacks from the weather. A substitute electrical jack value a number of hundred bucks in-store, plus set up, given my restricted information and instruments on-hand. However did I even need one other dinky electrical jack? What I actually wished was a strong handbook jack that I might crank on for 5 minutes whereas listening to “younger folks” music—similar to when hand-pumping my paddleboard. 

Within the parking zone, my spouse and I stared curiously on the damaged tongue jack. My plan had been to get the camper house and take the time to discover ways to do our personal upkeep. I’m neither the best nor the least, however someplace within the center. Thus, my first quick-fix concept was an abject failure. I had two wood blocks and tire chocks. I figured if I drove the rear truck wheels up onto the blocks, this could elevate the tongue sufficient that I might slide the sheared-off jack leg out of the tube and be achieved with it. This, I shortly discovered was a horrible concept. One tire rolled completely up onto the block, whereas the opposite tire rolled too far and kicked the wood block backwards—dangerously near the fiberglass shell. Phew, no harm. 

So, I unbolted the jack from the A-frame, which I ought to have achieved within the first place. After opening up the motor case and discovering there was no option to disconnect the wires, I nervously needed to lower them. We made it house by 11 pm and parked on the road. The subsequent morning, I drove the camper to a close-by church parking zone and practiced backing it up repeatedly whereas street development staff watched me, dumbfounded. 

For 10 days, the camper was marooned in our driveway, hitched to my truck. I waited by the Thanksgiving vacation for the delayed cargo of a Bulldog handbook jack. Kenny proved true to his phrase, sending again $500, for the jack, our troubles, and what he known as “embarrassment discount.” 

By mid-December, after a busy month, we had been one other step nearer to a working camper. There was lots left to do and study, like safely connecting to shore energy and putting in a everlasting mattress. However all of that must wait. A fast look on the climate forecast confirmed an arctic blast was coming, with nighttime lows dipping into the kids. That might give me a couple of week to determine the newest problem: Emptying the water strains and tanks and including antifreeze to forestall ruptures. An ominous course of that gave the impression of a fantasy movie invasion of the icy undead: WINTERIZATION.