Horrors of Full-Time RVing
We’ve been living in our little home on wheels for about two years now, and for the most part we’re completely content with it. There have been some scary times though. That’s right, it’s not all sunset heart hands and breathing in the freshest air. Sometimes it’s crawling into the bowels of the beast and following some internet how-to that inevitably will end in tears, blood, and very sore muscles.
Today, on this the most sacred of holidays, Halloween, we will be sharing some of our horror stories from this tiny way of life.
The Haunting of the Hill House on Wheels
Written By: Loren
Arriving in front of the farm, after a five-hour day of driving in the end of the Texas summer. Loren and Chelsea felt a sense of relief as they approached the metal gate. They also felt something else. Fear? Guilt? No. Nervousness.
They parked outside the gate as they waited for the farmer to respond with further instructions. The last message only said, “Aaron will meet you at the gate”.
Becoming impatient, and increasingly nervous. Was this the right place? I didn’t see an RV spot driving by. Maybe it’s just away from the road.
Just then the sound of a motorcycle begins to hum in the distance. A man in an unbuttoned yellow tartan shirt, exposing his bare chest, shorts, and brown cowboy boots dismounts from his chopper. He begins unlocking the gate, holds it open, and motions for Loren to drive her home through the fence. As Loren enters the fence, the man in yellow tartan speeds past on the motorcycle, and Chelsea follows behind in the grey family sedan.
The caravan embarks on the gravelly unpaved road. While driving, Loren watches as the man descends the rocky terrain and drops out of sight.
A hill. A steep hill. A steep unpaved hill - covered in large white rocks that do not seem to be holding their weight without the presence of a massive motor home.
Loren paused at the top of the hill. Contemplating every decision she had made to lead to this point in her life.
As she let off the break, the home on wheels began creeping towards the peak of the arduous slope. Carefully, creeping.
The feeling of driving something in a near vertical position, began to overwhelm her as her body trembled with fear and heart raced. Knuckles white, as she reached the crest.
“Nothing left to do, but go forward” Loren thought, as the question of ascending the hill in the massive vehicle loomed in her mind.
Nearing the end of the of the descent, she then realized, there was not a specific leveling off point on the side of this hill.
There was also not a site for their future home.
Disturbingly Peaceful Dry Camping
Written By: Loren
The stale summer air hung over the resting family, as they cozied into sleep for the night.
Night three on the road. Five more, left.
Choosing the route through America to save money, Loren and Chelsea were staying at rest stops, truck stops, and any other free land on their way towards their old home. Texas.
The little family was exhausted. Stressed. And uneasy about their first trip home in many years.
Their nightly routine was in full effect as they watched their favorite show about fellow travelers, in space. As they lie in the heat, to save battery and gasoline, with all the lights off. Puppy in bed. Cats nestled up closely. The couple was drifting off to sleep, as their new neighbor arrived. By the sound of the vehicle, a large diesel truck. Likely it was stopping off for the night to refresh and continue on their route.
They’ll cut their engine off once they’re all settled, thought the couple. As they continued to relax and rest for the early morning, the smell of diesel fuel began flooding into their bedroom, as the truck’s engine continued to idle in the spot immediately next to their home.
Ten minutes. I’m sure, they will cut it off soon.
Thirty minutes. They have to realize that it’s still running.
An hour. The parking lot was completely open when we arrived, why did they park right next to us?!
An hour and a half. It’s okay, we’ll just sleep through it.
Two hours. I can’t go on living like this.
Two and a half hours. We’re making a terrible mistake, let’s just pack up and leave. WHY WON’T THEY TURN THEIR ENGINE OFF!?
Three hours. Let’s go back to Oregon. We’ll sell everything. We’ll buy a house. We’ll settle down. I can’t stand this smell any longer - the noise - the horror!!
Three and a half hours. Make it stop. This life is not for us. I can’t go on… I can’t live like this.
After crying so hard, the couple was finally able to sleep from road exhaustion, tears, and mental stress.
The next day, the diesel was gone.
All that remained was the memory of the sadist in the vehicle next to them, the first night in Montana.
What Goes in Must Come Out
Written By: Loren
A brisk autumn air brushed against her skin as she trekked through the beautiful foliage of the Oregon forest. Making her way to the back of the motor home, she confidently thought – I can’t wait to surprise Chelsea with all the chores I completed today.
Loren, filled to the brim with self-assuredness, went to complete the task she had done for the past three months of full-time RVing. She strode to the hook up compartment near the rear of their shared home. With blue nitrile gloves in the pocket of her vest she opened the compartment door and clasped the valve of the black tank. Pulling gently to release the filth within, Loren’s stomach churned as she heard a whooshing of the sewage liquid, followed by a dripping, and then a splattering on the earth below. Immediately, she was overwhelmed with the smell of fresh sewage. Though this smell was familiar, this time it was more pungent than ever as if the abhorrent substance were a waterfall from the deepest circles of hell. It had engulfed the ground around her and now punishing the ground below with liquid filth.
As she stepped away in disgust, she saw it. Her worst nightmare. The sewage was pouring out, from every angle of the hose. Panicked, she closed the valve, with her un-gloved hands, and leapt away from the compartment.
What? What just happened?
As tears welled in her eyes, she retrieved her phone from her pocket and yelled into the AI of her phone, “CALL CHELSEA!”
“Hello, love” said Chelsea’s calming voice
“IT’S EVERY WHERE!” shrieked Loren
“Whoa, what’s happen-”
“POOP! IT’S EVERYWHERE! IT’S TERRIBLE! I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO!” panicked Loren into the phone.
“Lower your voice, and tell me what’s happening” Chelsea replied coolly
Loren explained in exasperation the ghastly scene before her eyes.
“The hose is probably just off the track, an easy fix. I can do it, when I get home” Chelsea stated
“No. I did this. I deserve to fix it. Also, the smell is horrendous, and I couldn’t bare if our neighbors or fellow campers were to endure the stench for much longer” Loren replied meekly “I will call you back if I need you here.”
“Okay, I love you” replied Chelsea comforted with the knowledge of Loren’s bizarre and sometimes nonsensical personal servitude for various tasks and responsibilities.
“Chelsea…” Loren whimpered “don’t forget me…” as she hung up the phone.
Collecting herself with a glass of vodka, Loren threw back the remaining liquid and placed the cup on the table. She stepped down the stairs of her home and took in a great breath of fresh air. She then pulled on her mid-arm length blue gloves, grabbed a disposable poncho, clamped a clothespin over her nose, and began slowly and begrudgingly walking to the holding tank compartment. The vile filth continued to drip slowly from the bottom of the compartment, accumulating in tiny puddles of defilement on the beautiful forest floor.
Checking to make sure the valve was completely closed, once. Twice. Three times for good measure. Loren sniveled as she clasped her hands around the hose, connecting the putrescent black tank to the underground septic tank. She turned the hose. Slowly. Slower. More slower. As the hose detached from the fixtures on the tank, excrement poured out and splashed on her gloved hands and seemingly engulfed her entire body with filth. As she choked back vomit in the back of her throat, Loren bravely replaced the hose, making sure to carefully align all points in their correct spot.
The demon had been contained.