Road Tested

This much I do know: The only thing worse than wrecking your own vehicle is wrecking somebody else’s. I’ve done both, so of this I am quite sure. When it’s the family Renault Encore (easily the most pitiful car ever made), it’s bad enough. Mom’s voice is full of despair; Dad gets that thick, purple vein popping out the back of his neck However, when the twisted metal is an on-loan, quarter-million-dollar motorhome, things get a little, shall we say, awkward. Start with “I’m sorry,” and repeat about a million times. Then repeat some more. And then some more.

One of the perks of my little writing venture (and they are many) is that people want to give me stuff. And in some cases, someone even cares to hear my opinion about it, which is where the shiny new motorhome comes in. At least, it was shiny when I got it. The goal of such an assignment is two-fold: Put the unit through its paces, and return the RV in the exact shape you received it. Well, in this case, one out of two isn’t a good percentage. And, no, wrapping the rig around a telephone pole doesn’t qualify as a successful afternoon. In my defense, I’m an extremely good driver and even more so since I started driving my two young boys around, but the mistakes were many that day. Let’s roll back the tape and see where it all went wrong.

Cold Start
I was feeling a little surly after three February hours in my Jeep with no heat. The only reason I knew my feet were still attached is that I was able to work the gas pedal. Otherwise, I experienced no feeling down there whatsoever. Numerous jumbo Diet Cokes before noon had me a little shaky and despite my trusty compass (given to me by a friend as a joke) in true Peterson fashion I had gotten lost twice already. Has anyone seen my sunglasses? Where’s my ChapStick? My left arm for a map! I had packed for my trip like an unsupervised fourth-grader and was paying the price each and every mile as I fumbled looking for stuff. By the time I got to the plant to pick up a new 40-foot diesel-pusher to review, I was ornery, frazzled, and headache-impaired. Sounds like a recipe for a nice trip, don’t it? Mistake #1. Things got worse from there.

Did I fully familiarize myself with the cockpit, mirrors, and gauges? Did I perform the obligatory walk-around before departing? Yes, but only in a halfhearted way, which isn’t good enough. Mistake #2.

I normally advocate finding a deserted parking lot to orientate oneself to any new RV or rental unit, but this day I was too tired and rushed to test the braking, turning radius, and the like before-hand. To the open road, I exclaimed. Mistake #3.

Did I mess around looking for a radio station for 20 minutes, which only served to irritate me further? Yes. Mistake #4, particularly since I was still getting used to the unit as I was pawing around the radio dial.

Driven to Distraction
Was I squinting while driving into the sun, bothered while trying to plot my course and drive at the same time, and going through detox while awaiting my next caffeine infusion? Yes. Mistakes #5-7.

Is it possible I got too engrossed in the radio talk show I finally found? Was I concentrating more on writing the lead to the article than on the task of driving? Is it possible I was overly preoccupied with where to find fresh diesel on these back-country roads? What number are we on?

Did I get lost, miss my turn, try a shortcut, become impatient, pull out into traffic too aggressively, and swipe the aforementioned telephone pole? Guilty on all charges, the last of which left the motorhome’s awning a’ dangling, the shiny fiberglass riddled with softball-sized holes and dents a plenty. The pole didn’t look that great, either.

Why would I expose this sad driving tale when it would make more sense to bury it deeper than my eighth-grade poetry? Well, to learn from it, of course. There’s nothing ho-hum about driving or towing an RV. Complacency is the enemy. Driving deserves our attention and respect, something I was painfully reminded of that day. And every trip since. Are you just an accident waiting to happen?

Brent Peterson is a writer on RVing and camping and the author of a newly revised and updated edition of The Complete Idiots’ Guide to RVing.