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Football’s RV Culture

On The Road

October 14, 2013

By Joey Bland

I went to Tuscaloosa to see a football game. That was the point. And so did a lot of other folks. And I met some of them. They were there just like me. They wanted to see the game, too, but while I got to campus in a decades-old minivan for which I had a near impossible time finding parking, these other fans got to Tuscaloosa in traveling fortresses. Houses on wheels. Rolling condos. These were the RV people, and I want to be one of them.

Football’s RV Culture

You know, sometimes when traveling, I miss the comforts of home. My favorite foods and snacks stocked in the kitchen. Or being able to do laundry. Or having satellite television and a video game console at my disposal as soon as I roll out of my comfortable and cozy bed. Well, the RV people don’t worry about that, because the aircraft carriers that they pilot down to Alabama have room for all that and more. They can fit furniture and food and … friends. Yeah. So many friends.

They were all so friendly. And why wouldn’t they be? They’ve got it all. They didn’t just wake up on the wrong side of some lumpy hotel mattress and suffer through a dry and aged continental breakfast. They slept in style, in an enormous, familiar, perfectly made bed, and they woke to the smells of frying bacon and eggs, cooking up right outside their door. They can cook it all. Light up the generator, and it’s a neighborhood fish fry, or it’s a full pork barbeque, or it’s taco night. It’s anything you want, because you’re living in a vehicle larger than some countries of the world. You’re living in a dream.

These RVs are my dream car. And even if they weren’t, I could fit my dream car inside one of them.

RV. Rapturous Vision. Remarkable Voyage. Road Vanquisher. Really … Very … Cool.

I’m the wrong person to have one, though. Because I would never leave it. One gracious RVing family in Tuscaloosa let me sit in the driver’s seat of their monstrous moving mansion, and I was a key-turn away from pulling out of the parking lot and never coming back. Lucky for them I realized that I’d have to stop eventually, and parallel parking that beast of a dream car must really be a nightmare.

But if I’d gone, I’d be huddled up in that road-friendly space station somewhere. And I’d be eating anything and everything I wanted in my own portable whirlpool bath, and I’d be watching the game on some gigantic projection screen TV hooked up behind the driver’s seat.

P.S.: What do you never travel without?

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