 Having spent 24 consecutive years in Arizona and wintering there once we transitioned to full-time RV living, we grew accustomed to the dry climate. As a result, two weeks at our Texas property in April caught us by surprise. You likely know the saying, “April showers bring May flowers.” In states that get those showers, that also means humidity — but there’s no saying about that (that I know of). Here are some challenges and perks we encountered in two weeks of South Texas living. Moist air and water accumulation We easily got set up on our new driveway, made of crushed asphalt, and settled into our quiet, peaceful surroundings. When we opened a drawer to grab some silverware, we were met with a rush of warm, moist air. The humidity had somehow worked its way into the kitchen area behind and next to the stove, perhaps through the slideout or the refrigerator vent. We decided it wasn’t anything to worry about, but we didn’t love it. It just felt wrong. Similarly, we didn’t have to be outside very long before the pores on our skin erupted with sweat. We also found condensation around one of the air conditioning vents on the vaulted ceiling in our living area. Crazy! Planning to leave the fifth wheel unattended on our property for a week while we went to Cabo San Lucas on vacation, we discussed our humidity concerns with friends John and Kristi, who’ve lived in the area for many years. John gave us a bag of DampRid (paid link) to hang in our closet to collect moisture and prevent mold on our clothes. That was a totally foreign thought to us. But after Bob saw the water accumulation in the DampRid bag in John’s closet, with the air conditioning on, we thought we’d better try it. We returned from vacation to find quite a bit of liquid in the bag in our closet — better there than in our clothes. It helps to be able to pick the brains of people who’ve spent the bulk of their lives in a humid climate and know how to deal with it.  Despite the sweat-producing reality of the clime, a steady breeze is also common, making the temperatures feel cooler and bearable. We had the pleasure of enjoying this breeze one evening under John and Kristi’s RV carport. Thunderstorms During our stay on the property, we experienced another phenomenon the area is known for: rolling thunderstorms. The day before our departure, the sky suddenly grew dark like nighttime around 2:30 p.m. as thunderclouds hovered overhead. We experienced lightning, thunder, rain, and wind gusts off and on the remainder of that day into the night. The temperature dropped and water accumulated, but we felt safe. With a threat of hail, Bob moved Gulliver to a sheltered awning to ride out the storm while I stayed in the RV and continued to work. We learned where the low spots are on our driveway (where we created them by the weight of our truck), as well as on the property. We gained about 1.25 inches of water that day and felt grateful that our driveway is 6 to 8 inches above the ground. Fabulous fishing Situated about one-third mile from the bay, our property offers plentiful fishing opportunities. In fact, the area is a fishing village. Bob secured a fishing license and took a stab at it, using a seawater rod and reel and other supplies he received from our kids. He bought frozen shrimp with the heads on to use as bait. Early one cool morning, we drove to the bay and walked out on our community-members-only pier. Bob strung line on his rod, attached the hook, baited it with shrimp, cast, and waited. After a few minutes of no tugs on the line, he reeled it in and found his bait gone. He rebaited the hook and tried casting again. The same thing happened multiple times. Fish were clearly eating the bait, so Bob decided to attempt to catch them closer to the pier. His plan worked. He pulled in a little catfish. Because of its small size, he threw it back in but tried this tactic again. Before long, he reeled in a black drum fish big enough to keep. Then he got another. I had to get to work, so I went and sat in the truck, opened my laptop, and got busy. Bob was having fun, so he kept fishing. After an hour or so, he called me to come back out to the pier. I’m glad I did. Something big caught his line. He slowly reeled it in and, to our amazement, lifted out a stingray.  I quickly Googled if they’re edible and discovered they’re a delicacy, so we kept it. That night, Bob cooked up the ray. What a wonderful, meaty, mild-flavored meal! It was delicious, although a lot of work to process. The next night, Bob cooked the black drum fish. It too had a nice mild flavor. We enjoyed both, but if we had to choose between the two, we’d pick the ray because it didn’t have any bones. Buc-ees Texas is the birthplace of Buc-ees, the supersized convenience store you may have heard about. In fact, the original store, still in operation, is only 1.5 hours away from our property. With 36 (soon to be 38) Buc-ees in the state of Texas, according to Roadtrip Beaver, it only made sense that visiting one should be part of our South Texas living. We headed to Buc-ees No. 12 in Port Lavaca, only 30 minutes away, and found it much less daunting than other stores. Even before entering, we were surprised at how it paled in comparison to the size of other Buc-ees we’ve visited, occupying only 4,460 square feet.  We enjoyed exploring the store nonetheless and were pleased to find it still had warm food available, including its famous brisket sandwich. We bought and shared an eggroll.
MySA reports the store is deemed to close this year after 26 years of operation. And it’s not even the smallest. That honor belongs to a store that isn’t an actual store: It’s a 100-square-foot structure with a door in West Texas, according to the Austin American-Statesman. Store No. 1 in Lake Jackson and a similar store in Freeport only have eight gas pumps. The Port Lavaca one has 20. You might also like Scared out of the fifth wheel.
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 After six years of full-time RV living, I’m kind of proud of the way I’ve adapted. I used to be very structured. Things had to be done in a certain order. If a change to that structure was presented, I’d need at least a day to consider it before I could commit to the change. Thanks to learning the art of adaptability, I find it much easier to roll with the proverbial punches. I’ve had to learn to be more flexible to survive in this lifestyle. And I’ve found it quite rewarding. Considering changing course Take, for example, our recent journey from Arizona to Texas. After a couple of days of listening to the irritating whistle of our engine seemingly screaming at us, we stayed sane by entertaining a drastic change in plans that would affect a couple of weeks and a couple of stops on our course. Planning to replace our fifth wheel in 2028, when it’s 10 years old, we’ve started watching videos about newer models and looking at our options. When we found a barely used model we’re considering for sale in Ohio by a man who clearly cared about his rig as much as we do about ours, we started to think about adjusting our plans. The rig was used only three times and garaged the rest of the time. That had a lot of appeal to us. And the price seemed quite reasonable. We looked at more videos about that specific model and eventually changed our minds about pursuing that rig because newer models have a third air conditioner to cool the back office, where I’d be working. That’s a pretty important amenity on a fifth wheel that features an office surrounded by windows. That and the fact that the rig had been converted from a kingpin to a gooseneck kept us from pursuing it. But I love that we were willing to think about it. We had fun dreaming and talking through the possibilities. The former me wouldn’t have enjoyed that but would have put up a rigid front and fought even the idea. Contemplating an RV carport Another example is after arriving at our Texas property, we were presented with an opportunity to purchase a used RV carport for a steal. We thought it would be nice to cover our rig from the elements and protect our driveway.  As we hemmed and hawed about it, we talked ourselves out of it. We had envisioned adding an RV carport to our lot after laying a concrete pad, something we haven’t done yet. The clearance on this particular covering wasn’t quite as high as we’d like for our tall rig, although it would have fit. We decided the timing wasn’t quite right, but we seriously considered it. And I willingly engaged in the conversation.
Relocating without reluctance Yet another change was having to move during a workday so that we could get our screaming truck into a shop near the airport we were flying out of to Cabo San Lucas on a Saturday. I hate moving on workdays, but since the shop was closed on Saturday, I didn’t have much choice. I quickly adapted to this situation, knowing it was necessary for our needs. I was actually able to work in the truck the full two hours of the trip, thanks to the joys of modern technology. We even packed for a couple of extra days in case we had to stay in a hotel after we returned the following Saturday, knowing the shop was only open Monday through Friday. Life is better since I’m more adaptable. I’m glad I’ve learned this skill. It’s helpful in many areas of life. You might also like Confessions of a full-time RVer.  About 30 minutes into the first leg of our seventh season of RV travel, a ding sounded from the truck dash. We didn’t see the message that followed, but it didn’t take us long to figure out the issue. The truck started whistling again, like it had the previous August while towing our fifth wheel up a Montana mountain. Having spent thousands of dollars to fix the issue while wintering in Arizona, we were shocked to hear the annoying sound again so soon. Gulliver hadn’t made the high-pitched noise when not towing. We turned off the exhaust brake, and the sound dissipated. Clearly, it was related to that, which is also part of the turbo. We continued on without unusual noises from the engine and enjoyed a scenic route through Eastern Arizona on state highways before transitioning to Interstate 10 in Lordsburg, New Mexico, en route to our Texas property. It turned out to be a challenging RV journey east. Peculiar happenings Before long, a rock struck our windshield with such impact that the crack immediately splintered. Fortunately, the chip didn’t affect either of our driving views.  In addition, the truck whistle returned and seemed to increase in intensity the longer we drove. We made it almost to El Paso, Texas, that night and hunkered down at a Boondockers Welcome host. It turned out to be the perfect overnight stop, offering easy access, quiet tranquility, and the ability to open a couple of slide-outs so that we could feel at home after a long day’s drive.  Upon our arrival there, I went to open the stairs to the rig, but something seemed to prevent them from going down like normal. I heard a loud pop. Upon closer examination, I discovered that a water bottle had escaped the plastic-sealed package stored inside the door and wedged itself under the stairs. The pressure of the stairs going down on the bottle forced the lid off. I chuckled, cleaned up the mess, and climbed the steps to open the living/dining room slide-out and the bedroom slide-out. After finishing outside, Bob joined me and went to fetch a saucepan to reheat homemade soup for dinner. He found a puddle of oil in the bottom of the drawer. Either the change in elevation or the impact of hitting bumps had caused our olive oil dispenser to fall over and empty its contents, something that had never happened in six years of storing it in the same spot.  A maze of clouds Wanting to avoid precipitation in our target destination the next day, we got an early start and checked the weather radar regularly throughout the day. Although Bob had spent a couple of pre-travel days under our slide-outs to seal them against water penetration, we don’t like to drive our RV in the rain. God had cleared the way for our travel. We hit only light rain and a couple of cloud bursts as thunderstorms rolled by, nothing major. At one point while I was behind the steering wheel, I noticed in my rearview mirror a piece of trim on the trailer flapping in the wind. I kept one eye on the road and one on the mirror. The trim kept getting looser. Not wanting it to beat against the fifth wheel, we pulled to the side of the road. Bob got out, forced the trim back into place, and taped it down to keep it from popping out again. With that, we continued our journey.  Exhausted when we finally reached San Antonio, we parked in a Bass Pro Shops parking lot for the night (keeping all slide-outs closed), walked to a restaurant for dinner, patronized Bass Pro, and returned to the RV to crash. We awoke to a wet morning. The forecast called for worse weather in the area as the day progressed, so we didn’t linger. We got right on the freeway, stopping only for coffee and fuel, and encountered a little more rain than the day before. A welcoming sight It didn’t slow us down too much, though. We reached our property near the Gulf of America by noon, laying eyes on our driveway for the first time, beckoning us to park on it. We had arranged to have it installed while we were away. We also had the overgrown bush on our land pruned down and discovered we have eight trees. We thought there were only four or five in there. We’re thrilled to have a respite from long drives and high fuel costs, and we really like it here. It’s peaceful and quiet. Birds sing us melodies, a rabbit dashes about, green grass and trees refresh our souls, and sea breezes keep the humid climate from feeling unbearable.
You might also like Surprises on the first visit to our property.  After our freeway fire incident in 2024, we replaced our fifth wheel’s E-Z Lube axles with non-E-Z Lube axles, not wanting to repeat that scene, which had been caused by a failure of the rear axle seal. The newer axles are like those on many vehicles that require annual repacking, or greasing, of the bearings inside the wheels for safe operation and continued success. Barely caffeinated early one Saturday with a forecast high of 101 degrees, we emerged from the RV to tackle the job. I said a prayer asking God to help us be kind to each other, have good attitudes, and communicate well. We didn’t have to identify a leader for this project. Repacking bearings on an RV clearly fell in Bob’s wheelhouse as an aircraft mechanic, and I was happy to play gofer. Establishing a stable foundation We started by putting the fifth wheel hitch in the bed of the truck. Having been stationary for five months, we had removed it to improve fuel efficiency and give us room to transport large items, such as the furniture we purchased. Reinstalling the hitch in two pieces provided ample opportunity for us to inspect it. We discovered a stray piece of shorn metal and some wear. We recognized the metal as a remnant of our tonneau cover mishap and dismissed it. We’d have to deal with the wear later. For the best stability during the bearings repacking job, we wanted to connect the trailer to the truck, especially since we were parked on a slight incline. It turned out to be good practice, as we had forgotten the order of some steps in the connection process. With the weight of Tagalong resting on Gulliver, we headed to the sunny south side of the trailer with tools and parts. After loosening the eight lug nuts on the front driver-side tire, Bob crept under the rig with a bottle jack and hoisted it up so that we could spin the tire. Then he installed a jack stand for added support and crawled out.  Getting our bearings Donning bright orange gloves, Bob fully removed the lug nuts and separated the tire from the trailer. Then he took off the dust cap and the wheel nut, allowing him to pull the hub forward and the outer bearing and washer to fall into his hand.  With the hub out of place, Bob took time to survey the wheel and brake. The electromagnet for the brake just kind of hung, not acting like it should. On the back side of the hub, Bob used a special tool to knock the grease seal out of place so that he could get to the inner bearing. He put both the inner and outer bearings in a pail of acetone to clear away the grease. While they soaked, he cleaned old grease from the hub and spindle and slathered on fresh grease. He ran the larger of the two bearings through the acetone to wash away adhering grease and lifted the bearing from the pail. After spraying the unit with brake cleaner and wiping it with a paper towel, he forced air into it with a compressor for added measure. That blew out any remaining grease. Greasing the bearings Bob carefully examined the outer bearing for any damage. Seeing none, he scooped up a generous amount of fresh grease and rubbed it on, massaging the bearing to push the grease into all the nooks and crannies. He repeated the process with the inner bearing.  Satisfied with his work, Bob carefully put the hub pieces back together, adding grease where needed. I handed him a new grease seal and a new dust cap. He reattached the hub to the trailer, followed by the tire, securing it with the lug nuts. Then he lowered the trailer, tightened and torqued the lug nuts, and moved to the next tire to repeat the process. By this point, about two hours after we began, sweat pooled in my eyelids as the sun climbed higher in the sky. After removing the second tire on the sunny side, we relocated to the shady side of the trailer for some respite and did the cleaning and grease packing for that tire there. We finished reassembling the second tire on the south side of the rig around 11 a.m. and moved to the shady side for the duration of the project, grateful we had taken drinking water out of the rig.  Leveling up … or down Disassembling and reassembling the other two wheels and repacking the bearings went pretty smoothly, but the hot day dragged on. We finally finished the two passenger-side tires around 2 p.m., having depleted all of our drinking water well before that. Thirsty and famished from eating nothing but granola bars that morning, we cleaned up, detached the truck from the trailer, and tried to level it. The automatic leveling system kept erroring out. We figured the unseasonal heat must have been too much for the motors, so we decided to wait for the weather to cool off before trying again. In desperate need of food, drink, and air conditioning, we secured everything and climbed into the truck to head to a restaurant, groaning about aches and pains from our day’s work. In the coolness of the eatery, Bob did some research. We realized we needed to retrain the RV’s leveling system after reattaching the dangling sensor when we resealed the trailer’s underbelly. We returned satiated but exhausted. We decided to put jack stands under the trailer’s middle stabilizers and reteach the leveling system when we had more time to deal with it. A braking development A week passed before we had a free morning to attempt to level the rig again. Because we hadn’t leveled it the way we wanted to, we hadn’t installed the X-chocks or the king pin tripod stabilizer (paid links), not wanting to redo those aspects later. Tired of feeling like we were on a rocking ship every time one of us moved about inside the fifth wheel, we spilled out of the trailer another morning to do something about it. The delay in leveling turned out to be a blessing, as it allowed time for us to secure a new brake electromagnet and new rubber for the king pin hitch. With our slide-outs closed and the trailer connected to the truck once again, Bob crawled under the rig, jacked it up, and removed the front driver-side tire, bearings, and hub to get to the brake. He unclipped the wires holding the electromagnet from the brake disc, cut them, and attached the new electromagnet wires to them using butt splice connectors and a heating gun.  In the process, it became apparent that the previous electromagnet was missing a clip to hold its spring in place and allow it to function properly. As a result, the X hole that allowed the magnet to move toward and away from the disc had been worn into more of an oval shape.  Bob put the new magnet into place and secured it with a fresh clip. Then he put the hub and tire back together and lowered the trailer.  Hitching up We once again disconnected the truck from the trailer and attempted to level the rig. This time, it worked on the first try. We had successfully retaught the system what level was and were able to set up the trailer like normal — X-chocks, tripod stabilizer, and all. We cleaned up, and Bob moved to the bed of the truck to install the new hitch rubber in place of the worn material. He had done the same thing a few years earlier, as recommended by the manufacturer every three years.  We’re grateful for the things we found that needed our attention en route to repacking the bearings on the RV. All were important, and we have greater confidence in our trailering ability for the travel season ahead.
You might also like Replacing RV slide-out seals. As Amazon Associates, we earn from qualifying purchases.  It’s no secret that people come in all shapes and sizes. That goes for personalities too. Some people like to be organized and calculated. Others like to be spontaneous and fly by the seats of their pants. Of the four ABCD personality types, I’m a C: analytical and detail-oriented. Growing up, I had a system for everything I did. Bob is a B: relaxed and easygoing — the polar opposite of me. He wishes I was more spontaneous, and I wish he was more organized. Yet we balance each other out and, over the years, he’s rounded my rigid corners. Similarly, I’ve rubbed off on him. It may seem that a B personality type would adapt best to full-time RV living. However, planning and organization are also needed. Let me tell you from personal experience how this planner survives full-time RV life. Thriving in the organization The RV lifestyle involves a lot of logistics when you live in a big rig. Stretching 42 feet long and standing 13 feet 3 inches tall, our fifth wheel fits in that category. It’s not easy to just pull off the road into some city and hope we can find somewhere to park. We have to plan ahead and check satellite views to see if we can even get into a place. This is an ideal task for a detail-oriented person. Bob and I carefully plot our fuel stops and destinations. Because we’re part of Open Roads, we can fuel up at truck stops where semis do, so we don’t have to be super strategic when it comes to that. We can also easily pull into rest areas for pit-stop breaks en route between locations, especially since upgrading our truck fuel tank to allow us to travel farther without gassing up.  Identifying routes and overnight and weekly stays easily falls into the wheelhouse of a planner. I enjoy examining potential paths on a map to determine stopping points near sights we want to see, as well as between target destinations. Finding campsites (not always at campgrounds) requires a lot of research as well. These activities are rewarding for my personality type. Another thing I find satisfaction in is keeping and following checklists. We have a list for packing the inside of the trailer and closing our four slide-outs, another for connecting the truck to the RV, one for disconnecting the trailer from the truck, and still another for dumping our wastewater tanks. I’ve always been a list person, and I relish being able to check items off each list. Working full-time while on the road gives me a semblance of a routine to help me feel fulfilled. I can count on a mostly set schedule Monday through Friday to help me balance the not-so-certain aspects of RV life. Adapting to the spontaneity  Throughout six years of full-time RVing, I’ve learned to be more flexible. It’s a prerequisite of RV life, where road conditions, weather, and vehicle operation are all wild cards. Any can change in a moment. When one does, we have to be ready to adjust.
Being a planner, that’s been a tough transition for me. My plans were set, and I expected to follow them. But I’ve learned to adapt more quickly, even if it means moving during a workday (a rarity, thankfully) to avoid traffic or canceling a lazy morning and packing up earlier than planned to evade a coming storm. After cooking for our family for more than 25 years, I also had to adjust to being the bread winner (something Bob and I agreed to) and letting Bob take over meal preparation. I’m happy to report that it's been a good adjustment. He’s an excellent cook. I’m grateful I get to enjoy both the orderliness and the spontaneity RV life has to offer. Who knew that spontaneity could be fun for a planner? Bob and I often say we live an amazing life. You might also like Confessions of a full-time RVer.  North Dakota may be the 39th state admitted to the Union, but it’s the 50th state Bob and I visited. Many other people have never made it there. According to YouGov, only 14% of Americans have visited the Peace Garden State, named for the International Peace Garden that spans the boundary between North Dakota and Manitoba, Canada. North Dakota is also known as the Roughrider State, in honor of the first volunteer cavalry organized by Theodore Roosevelt, and the Flickertale State, for its abundant ground squirrels. What the nicknames don’t tell you is that the state is the top producer of sunflowers, spring wheat, and honey, according to the nd.gov.  The 39th state is out of the way and requires intention to visit. As full-time RVers, we’ve been on a mission to see all 50 states (well, 49, since we can’t drive our fifth wheel to Hawaii), so North Dakota was on our radar. We had planned to cross into the state last year but rerouted to Plattsburgh, New York, to help with the annual CAF Airbase Arizona Flying Legends of Victory warbird tour. This year, we made it, entering the eastern side of the state from South Dakota and embarked on a boondocking adventure across North Dakota. Surprising weather For our first night, we parked on a small dirt pad surrounded by farmland near the town of Hankinson, unprepared for the nearly 90-degree August heat. Boondocking with no electric hookups made for a very warm arrival. We decided to get up early the next morning and move to a more scenic spot near Bismarck. Fog shrouded our early-morning drive most of the way to Fargo, the state’s largest city, with a population of nearly 138,000, according to World Population Review. There, we traded Interstate 29 for Interstate 94 and headed west against the wind. We had heard that North Dakota can be pretty windy, so we weren’t surprised by that.  What did catch us off guard was the number of lakes scattered across North Dakota. According to ndtourism.com, the state is home to more than 400 lakes. We thought it was all prairie land. Perhaps they caused the fog. A couple of hours passed before we pulled onto a little isthmus in Sweet Briar Lake and had the place all to ourselves. Out every window, we saw beautiful views of water surrounded by tall grasses. Our first night there, we had an interesting thunderstorm encounter that scared us out of the fifth wheel.  Unexpected scenery North Dakota holds a lot of World’s Largest records. On our travels across the state, we marveled at the expansive yellow fields of sunflowers and sightings of the:
The state is also home to the Enchanted Highway, a 32-mile drive from the city of Gladstone to the town of Regent past a collection of the world’s tallest metal sculptures, the brainchild of a man who grew up in Regent and wanted to share his town with others. The seven sculptures include Geese in Flight, the World’s Largest Scrap Metal Sculpture and the only one visible from Interstate 94.  Picturesque badlands After a few peaceful days at Sweet Briar Lake (once the thunderstorm passed), we moved on to the western part of the state. The Great Plains gave way to prairie grasslands and badlands. Unlike the flat eastern part of the state, the west is hilly and offers varied scenery. It’s also home to Theodore Roosevelt National Park. We boondocked in the grasslands near the small city of Medora, population less than 200. Our camping spot gave us beautiful views of a valley and the badlands. On hot days, Bob powered up the generator to run one of our two air conditioners, which helped. It’s a good thing he rewired the rig to enable that.  Across the state of North Dakota, we encountered friendly people and a relaxed pace of life. We may never make it back there again as it took nearly 60 years for us to get there the first time, but we’re glad we made the effort. It was well worth the experience.
You might also like Magnificent Rock Formations.  A sudden shift in the wind outside the thin wall surrounding our bed awakened me from a deep slumber at 12:45 a.m. We had known before going to bed that night that a storm was expected before dawn, with wind and hail likely. I glanced at my phone and saw a severe thunderstorm warning for our remote area about 30 miles west of Bismarck, North Dakota. We had found a beautiful boondocking spot on a little isthmus in Sweet Briar Lake and had the place all to ourselves.  Having learned to check radar for our particular area, I did that as well. The radar displayed a large, mean-looking red swath headed directly toward us. I woke up Bob and showed him what was coming our way. He jumped out of bed, and we tried to determine what we should do in our sleepy state.  Choices, choices
We decided to close the slideouts in our fifth wheel to center the gravity in our rig, giving the wind less surface to hit and preventing our slideout toppers from flapping and stretching. Inexperienced at interpreting radar data, I panicked as we bolted around the trailer. I was ready to close the slideouts, forgetting that we needed to get items out of the way first. Thankfully, Bob remained level-headed. We quickly moved things to safe places so that we could close the slideouts. Rain had already started. With the slideouts closed, we had to hang out in the bedroom or bathroom unless we wanted to stand or sit in the hallway in front of the entry door. Nothing else was accessible. We returned to the bedroom and checked the radar again. Neither of us felt comfortable riding out the storm in the highest part of the rig. We wanted to be closer to the ground. Since we knew we wouldn’t be able to sleep, we agreed to make a mad dash to the truck. I guess you could say we were scared out of the fifth wheel. We quickly got dressed in case we had to go to a public place for safety, threw on our rain jackets and sandals, grabbed a towel, and ran for the truck. Rain came at us at an angle. Shelter in the storm I didn’t immediately feel safer in the truck. I wanted to be in the middle of the cab, away from the windows, but our large console prevented that. We removed our sopping rain jackets and used the towel to dry them and ourselves off as lightning flashed and rain pounded against the roof. After a little while, my panic and fear subsided and I realized that we were pretty secure inside Gulliver. We were closer to the ground in the dually and felt less shaking of the vehicle from the wind. As we sat in the truck with the lights on, we took comfort in seeing a vehicle with its lights on across the lake, where fellow campers were residing. We weren’t alone. We kept an eye on them, and they likely watched us. If neither of us moved, the storm couldn’t be all that bad. To pass time, we started making up our own version of the “Gilligan’s Island” theme song: Just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful rig, bombarded by this thunderstorm out here in the sticks. The weather started getting rough, the giant rig was tossed, if not for the courage of the fearless crew, Tagalong would be lost. Refuge for the night We kept checking the weather radar. After about half an hour, the worst of the storm had passed and the rain let up a bit. We pulled on our rain jackets and carefully stepped around puddles to return to the trailer. Because we had closed the last slideout in the pouring rain, we thought we’d better open it and clean up the wet mess it had caused. That done, we opened the bedroom slideout and climbed back into bed, leaving the other two slideouts closed for the night. Bob turned on the TV, and we watched part of “The Brady Bunch Movie” while we waited for the tail end of the storm to pass. After two hours of excitement, we were exhausted and fell fast asleep, grateful for our safety and each other. Looking back, we realized we experienced much stronger winds in Carlsbad, New Mexico, and were fine. And we’ve faced at least four tornado warnings. A few things contributed to our decision to ride out this storm in the truck: my lack of experience at understanding radar output, the darkness, and our unfamiliarity with North Dakota storms. We’re glad we hung out in Gulliver and might do so again in a similar situation. You might also like Storm ready: Battening down the RV hatches.  We can normally boondock for about two weeks before our 50-gallon black water tank (toilet waste) fills up. While moochdocking at my cousin Deb’s in Michigan, however, our black tank appeared to reach capacity after only a week and a half — even though Bob had been out of state for about half that time — necessitating a dirty RV project. Measuring full During our first year as full-time RVers, Bob installed after-market tank-level monitors on our black tank and freshwater tank to give us a realistic picture of the volume of their contents. (The factory gauges that come in most RVs aren’t reliable, indicating full tanks when they’re not.) After five years of use, our after-market tank-sensor monitor started giving us false readings: 100% freshwater and 0% black, both of which we knew were incorrect. Bob returned the monitoring unit to the company, Tech-Edge, which troubleshot and fixed the issue — two burned-out chips on the circuit board — and sent it back to us.  Once Bob reinstalled the refurbished monitor, we got a reading that our black tank was at 90% capacity. We took measures to minimize adding to the black tank, but the next day, the monitor read 100%. We had to empty it. We hadn’t planned to move our rig for another three days and didn’t really want to close it all up, move it to dump the tanks, and then reset it up for just a few days. In previous years at the farm, we had a company pump out our black and gray water tanks. This year, though, they wanted triple the price. Taking a dump Fortunately, Deb’s son also owns an RV and had a portable holding tank we could use to transport the contents of our black and gray tanks to a septic tank on the farm. It sounded simple enough. The problem was that the portable tank held 36 gallons, which meant we’d have to stop draining our black tank before it emptied to prevent overfilling the tote tank. To be safe, we decided to start with one of our two gray tanks. Together, the kitchen sink tank and the bathroom tank hold 85 gallons. Deb offered to help and arranged for a forklift driver to transport the filled tote tank to the septic tank for draining. He brought over a pallet on a forklift, and Bob and Deb put the pallet into position to pull the tote onto once it was full. Typically, we empty our tanks with the trailer slideouts closed for easier access to the trailer sewer dump pipe and tank levers. Since we weren’t moving the rig, Bob, with gloved hands, disappeared under the office slide to connect the sewer hose to the drain pipe. Deb, also gloved, held the other end of the hose in an opening on top of the tote tank. I watched, took pictures, and helped where I could.  They successfully emptied the kitchen gray tank into the tote with only one minor mishap of the hose coming out of the tote very briefly. Good thing we started with the gray water! Bob and Deb pulled the tote onto the positioned pallet, but there was no sign of the forklift driver. He had gone to lunch. We didn’t want to wait an hour for him to come back. Toting sewage The tote came with a tow handle that could connect to a trailer hitch ball. So we attached the tote to Gulliver and climbed inside. I made sure Bob and Deb removed their gloves before getting in. Bob drove very slowly the 50 yards or so to the septic tank, watching the tote follow in our rear cargo camera.  Shortly before reaching the septic tank, the pin connecting the handle to the tote fell out, leaving the tank in the middle of the dirt road. We reattached the handle, and Bob and Deb dragged the tote into position to empty it. They donned gloves again (we went through a lot that day), removed a round concrete lid covering the septic tank hole, connected a sewer hose to the tote, opened a lever, and let the substance go. Success!  Next came emptying the black tank. We were able to stop the flow out of the tank in time to keep from overfilling the tote — with no hose mishaps. This time, the tote stayed attached to the truck, and Bob and Deb emptied its contents smoothly, as they had with the first gray tank. Back at Tagalong, we finished emptying the black tank into the tote, which still left plenty of room. So we drained the bathroom gray tank into the tote and filled it pretty full. Then we repeated the emptying process. We were able to dump all three of our tanks in only three trips.  Looking back, we’re convinced all the contents of the black tank would have fit in one tote tank full, which means our sensor wasn’t working properly. We still had at least another 10 gallons of space in the black tank. It’s always better to err on the side of caution, but it would be nice to get an accurate reading. Bob will have to recalibrate the sensor. It likely got off during the repair.
You might also like The logistics of full-time RVing.  When we decided to transition from sticks and bricks to full-time RV living, we went all in. Over a period of two years, we minimized our belongings and got our house ready to sell. We moved into our fifth wheel, closed on the sale of our home, and embarked on traveling the country, seeing amazing sights, and visiting friends and family. For five years, we’ve told people our truck, rig, and the clothes on our backs are the only things we own in the world. We can’t say that anymore after purchasing a half acre of property in Southeastern Texas, between Corpus Christi and Houston. Why did we buy property after five years of full-time RV living? The main reason is so that we have a place to go in case something happens that prevents us from continuing to travel. We watched a video early on of a fifth-wheel accident on a slick, snowy mountain pass. The accident left the RVers out of their traveling home for at least eight months. We’ve seen mostly good things in our expeditions across the country, but we’ve seen some bad things too, such as a semi-truck laying on its side in the middle of the highway. It was quite sobering to realize that could just as easily happen to us and our home.  Having a piece of land gives us peace of mind that we have a place to regroup. Sure, we know lots of people across the country. And many would take us in, at least for a time, if something were to happen. But it’s nice to have a place to call our own.
Why we purchased property in Texas We purchased property in Texas because we got an excellent deal on it. We could have bought land anywhere, but we didn’t want to pay a lot. We found this property, thanks to a couple on our last transatlantic cruise, at a great price and were able to pay cash for it. The land is in a small fishing community where people keep an eye on one another’s things and look out for each other. We already have a connection there (the couple we met), and we like the area. It’s near the Gulf of America, offering close beach access. We also chose Texas because it’s easy to get to on our travels to and from Arizona to visit family and friends. Temperatures are warmer in the South in the spring than they are in the North, so staying south on our travels at that time of the year makes sense. And Texas is another state, like South Dakota, that makes it easy for full-time RVers to make it their place of domicile. There’s no state income tax, and vehicle registration expenses and sales tax are low. Does this mean we’re settling down? No, we’re not ready to settle down yet. We really enjoy our nomadic lifestyle. Our property has utilities to it and offers us a place to park our rig for free — once we remove a tree and add a culvert and driveway. We’ll probably spend up to a month there on our way to Arizona in the fall and a month there in the spring, at least to start. The property gives us a place to build on if we decide to someday. We revel in those kinds of projects and are having fun dreaming. But we’re not ready to hang up our full-time RVer moniker anytime soon. You might also like How I balance work and life in 400 square feet.  The first time we stayed in Oklahoma in our fifth wheel, we camped on the expansive plains, where we experienced the wind the region is famous for. We were clueless that 28% of the state – accounting for more than 12,000 acres, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture – has something else to offer: trees. Most of Oklahoma’s forest land can be found in the Eastern part of the Sooner State. We had the privilege to spend about a week and a half in Southeastern Oklahoma near Texarkana, Texas, thanks to the gracious hospitality of our friends Norm and Susan, who made sure we had an amazing Oklahoma adventure. Powered parachute flight Norm has had his pilot’s license for years and even owns and flies a powered parachute. What’s a powered parachute? you may be wondering. It’s a small, open-air cart structure with three wheels that resembles a large tricycle. Behind one or two seats sits a large propeller, and a parachute makes up the canopy, or “wing,” to keep the aircraft in the air. Since Bob has both airplane repair and tech skills, Norm had him take a look at the plane. Together, they worked on updating some safety wiring and the electronic flight monitoring system. In exchange, Norm offered to take me for a ride in his contraption. After loading the aircraft onto a trailer behind his side-by-side vehicle, Norm drove it to the cow pasture next to his property. There, he unloaded the plane and pulled out the parachute from its storage bag, carefully checking all the lines attaching the chute to the cart to ensure nothing was tangled, frayed, or ripped. Satisfied that everything appeared in good repair, Norm and I climbed into the cart and strapped ourselves in. He started the engine, and we slowly wheeled across the pasture, picking up speed. A smile plastered across my face. And suddenly, we were airborne.  The aircraft slowly ascended to about 2,000 feet at a speed of about 25 mph, the houses and barns below quickly decreasing in size. Goosebumps erupted on my arms, making me glad I had put on long pants before the flight.  We enjoyed an aerial view of the farms around Norm’s property, where trees had been cleared many years earlier to make room for pastures and hen houses. Norm showed me the house he had built over a five-year span, and we flew over Tagalong. We also buzzed Bob and Susan, who had set up chairs to watch our flight. After about 30 minutes in the air, we began our descent over the cow pasture. Frightened cattle bolted to get out of the way. All three of our tires hit the ground, and we rolled across the uneven countryside, laughter gushing out of me as we slowed to a stop. It was an incredible experience. Celebrity sighting Another extraordinary experience involved a local celebrity. In 2013, a chef who was born and raised in Norm and Susan’s town competed on “Chopped” on the Food Network. When Tabb Singleton appeared on the show, he did so with experience as a sous chef under Emeril Lagasse in New Orleans. Tabb won the competition and returned to his hometown with the hope of fulfilling his dream to start a restaurant there. In 2020, during the height of the COVID pandemic, he bought an old burger joint and converted it into a barbecue restaurant. Thus was born Phat Tabb’s BBQ, a small-town staple that attracts locals and visitors alike with its aromatic smoked delights. Having watched a number of “Chopped” episodes, we were intrigued. One day for lunch, we ventured to Phat Tabb’s to get a taste for ourselves. As we emerged from the vehicle, the delectable smell of smoked meat wafted into our nostrils, luring us in.  We wanted to try everything, so we ordered the Hog Lot, which features a hefty sampling of prime brisket, spare ribs, pork belly, okie bologna (aka smoked bologna or “Oklahoma steak”), housemade sausage, turkey breast, and three sides. For the sides, we decided on burnt end baked beans, white trash potato salad, and pickled okra salad – a tangy cold salad made of black-eyed peas and pickled okra.
The brisket melted in our mouths. Sounds of “mmm” and “so good” escaped our lips. Everything tasted delicious, as you’d expect from a celebrity chef. Our only regret was that our stomachs weren’t big enough to eat much of the options at the one meal. Fortunately, the food kept, and we enjoyed it the rest of the week. You might also like Rare sightings while full-time RVing. |
AuthorThis is the travel blog of full-time RVers Bob and Lana Gates and our truck, Gulliver, and fifth wheel, Tagalong. Categories
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