It’s 1972. We agree to use our pickup truck to haul rubber rafts from San Diego to Davis Dam in Arizona for the Boy Scouts, which will require two nights of camping. We rented a tent and Coleman stove. The boys would raft down the Colorado River to a pickup point in a desert area on an Indian reservation, where we would be waiting for them. When we got there and were looking for a spot to pitch the tent I noted only dirt, big rocks, and huge ants and declared that I would not sleep on the ground. So we pitched the tent in the bed of the truck. Then I noted no place to go tinkle—there wasn’t even a bush large enough to get behind, which wasn’t too much of a problem, since we hadn’t thought ahead enough to take water. Fortunately another couple had a motor home and let me use the potty. We never even heard of a “port-a-potty.”( Picture of our “first RV” below.)
After that experience, we decided we needed to get a truck and camper so we could take the kids camping—three teenagers and a 10-year old. We looked at a used one on an RV sales lot. No way would our family fit in it. The salesman showed us a 24-foot Dodge Commander Class A motor home, which we fell in love with, but could not afford. He suggested we could buy it and rent it out when not using it. So that’s what we did!
Our first trip to the desert with the kids, our daughter just had to wash her hair and used up all the water. We have lots of wild and cherished memories of trips in that little RV. Now we are full-timers in our 8th motor home, a 32-foot diesel Monaco Cayman—“sleeps two.”
Submitted by Winona Crum of El Cajon, CA as a part of the RV Centennial Celebration “Share Your Favorite RV Memory” contest.
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