As I mentioned in my last blog, I had wanted an RV for years. But anyone who’s been through a divorce will tell you: when the dust settles, the only people with any money left are the lawyers. It took several years before life settled down, I changed jobs, and finally started making a little more. At the time, I was working as a kitchen manager and vocational trainer at a mental health rehab center. I wore many hats there, and one of those hats was being the backup van driver.
One day, while picking up a client, I noticed her parents had an RV sitting in the driveway. Somehow, the topic came up that I had always wanted one. I didn’t think anything more of it—just a passing comment between stops.
But the next day, when I arrived to pick her up, she handed me a single sheet of paper. On it was every detail about her parents’ RV… and an asking price. If I wanted it, it was mine.
It was a 1987 Coachmen Leprechaun, 27 feet long. The same model I had mentioned in my earlier story.
Keep in mind, this was pre-cellphone, pre-internet—back when “research” meant asking around or hoping someone knew a guy who knew a guy. Still, I considered myself a reasonably intelligent person, and the price was something I could finally afford. I remembered the camping trip the kids and I had taken, the one that lit this spark in the first place. So I jumped in—naïve, excited, and completely blind.
I was told the RV had been sitting for a while. What I didn’t know was how long. A fuel tank, six new tires, and several repairs later, I had myself a fully operational motorhome. That’s when I learned the golden truth: an RV is a lot like a boat—basically a black hole for your money. But the memories you make? Absolutely worth every penny.
The kids and I spent many nights up at Big Meadows, laughing around the campfire and soaking in the simple joy of being together outdoors. Those moments became our tradition.
And as a divorced father, I didn’t have the kids every weekend. So on the off weekends, it was just me and my dog, Kasey. No matter how rough the week had been, once I settled in front of a campfire with my adult beverage of choice, the stress melted away like it had never existed.
Before we wrap up this week’s story, I’d love to hear from you. Have you ever bought an RV—or any “dream purchase”—that turned into a money pit but still gave you some of your favorite memories? Feel free to share your experiences or thoughts in the comments below. I always enjoy reading them and hearing about your adventures, too.
And then came Terlingua.
…to be continued.