Initially, Stamp viewed RV life as a way to travel and live inexpensively, and save money for continued retirement. “We never really pictured ourselves in an RV,” says the Olympia, Washington native. “We had preconceived notions of what RV-ers are like. It tends to be a pretty conservative community.” But after finding their dream RV, reducing from their 2,000-square-foot home to their 100-square-foot RV, and hitting the road, they found the lifestyle proved more inclusive than they’d expected. She recalls their first trip across the country, as they traveled warily through the South, and they met a friendly couple in Texas Hill Country. Two older women at a restaurant flagged them down and made them feel right at home. “It was a lesbian couple, and we ended up sitting with them and having great conversation,” she describes. “It was completely unexpected, to meet people like us in the middle of Texas. A lot of experiences like that have been positive.”
For folks like Stamp, who are new to full-time RV-ing, adapting to a lifestyle of unexpectedness is well worth the effort. “While on the road, we have a loose plan that we make, but we give ourselves the freedom to change plans,” says Stamp. “One year, we realized we were about 50 miles away from Laurel, Mississippi, and that’s where they film the HGTV series, Home Town. We both love that series, so we decided to make a spur-of-the-moment detour and see the places that we see every week on TV.”
It’s nothing like the rigidity of a 9-to-5. Susan and Norm (56 and 61, respectively, who declined to share their last name) were a couple anchored by office hours for the majority of their 36-year marriage. Prior to retiring from her career in the dental field, Susan says her husband used his experience working in RV tech to take the leap into self-employment five years ago, renting out RVs in western Colorado for work. With enough demand, they were both doing that full-time within two years.
During the pandemic, they decided to hit the road themselves, as a way to pare back from work while still logging on remotely part time. It’s a way to explore what retirement might look like for them. “I’d say within the next five years, we’ll be buying property, or we may go live in Mexico for retirement,” says Susan. “But I don’t think we’ll ever live what most people consider a traditional lifestyle again.” For now, they live in a 125-square-foot cargo trailer that’s been retrofitted as a mobile tiny home, complete with aspen walls and a cedar roof. “RV-ing is something that you can do extravagantly or minimally. It’s opened us up to getting outside of our box, and you get to reinvent yourself constantly with this lifestyle.”
For all its freedoms, the lifestyle does have its pros and cons. While Susan says the RV community is expanding in terms of age (“when we’re on the road, we meet people in their 20s and 30s, with kids, that are at a totally different stage in life, but yet you find common ground in the lifestyle”), there’s still a lack of diversity.
That’s what inspired Brenda Huynh (47) to start the Facebook group Asian American RV Adventure, along with her husband, Tiger Doan (50). The two still work and live in California, but as frequent RV-ers (they average 15 trips per year with their two daughters, 13 and 15, in their 25-foot Class-A motorhome) in a space typified by heterosexual white travelers, they’re passionate about sharing their experience with others—including older generations in the Asian-American community for whom RV’ing can be a tough sell. “Tiger and I are very rare,” Huynh says of the still-lacking diversity in the RV space. “It’s rare to see Asians on the road.” There are also preconceived notions to break—the glamour of RV’ing isn’t obvious to everyone. “We took [my parents] tent camping, and later we rented an RV, and my mom said ‘Why do you spend so much money to live like in a refugee camp?’”
By using the group to share campground reviews and tips, encouraging national parks as a form of education, posting photos from their trips to inspire others, and hosting rallies, Huynh hopes others will see the beauty into getting closer to nature through RVing. Since the pandemic they’ve crossed paths with more Asian Rvers, but it still feels like a niche. “Things break, shit happens,” says Huynh. “But the flip side is the benefit as a family, and being closer to nature instead of flying somewhere and staying in a hotel.” And when they do bump into fellow Asian American RVers, there’s an instant connection.
