RV Living: Lessons From New Mexico
I have actually lived full time in an RV before, so I was no stranger to the concept. After having to move to New Mexico for work, and my husband at the time stayed behind with our house, I couldn’t see myself paying to furnish an entire house or apartment. It made more sense financially to just park my RV long term at an RV Park. Couldn’t beat the price… $450 a month for rent plus $290 a month for an RV payment. Disadvantage was the lack of garage but if you had a Toyhauler or a bigger rig you’d be set. I decided to leave my dirt bike, animals, Mustang, and house behind opting to only take my street bike and truck with me. I got a lot of painfully awkward questions about where my husband was going to be and if he was coming with me…
“Wait, he changed jobs and is staying in California? How is that going to work?”
Innocent questions enough, but very loaded at the same time. I usually just dodged those questions by telling people to not worry, that I had made him plenty of frozen meals and left him a bowl of water.
I had moved to New Mexico in July 2019, the hottest damn time one could live there BUT right around chile season. My first night there, a monsoon rolled in and dumped water into my bathroom; I had failed to realize my vent cover had cracked and ripped off somewhere in Arizona. Eventually I got a new one, climbed to the top of my rig on a blazing hot day (105 degrees) and replaced it before the storm rolled in. HA! I’m an independent woman who doesn’t need no man! That is, until I freaked out going down the extension ladder and had to wait 15 minutes to wave down a passer-by to come hold it for me… Besides that I was totally an independent woman!
What I did learn was how to depend on myself. For far too many years, I relied on my now ex-husband to do all the dirty work such as changing tires, house-hold repairs, etc. It’s not that I couldn’t do those too (I grew up welding, doing wood work, and mechanic work) but he had a talent for it and enjoyed doing it. Unfortunately for me, my skills took a back seat throughout the years of our marriage, but this living situation in New Mexico was a great practice run for me to knock the cob webs off.
I kept myself busy a lot. After work I’d go to the gym, then jiu jitsu. I’d come home and turn the AC on, then head for the hot tub with a bourbon and coke where I’d meet this Santa Claus looking man. Every night he’d head to the hot tub too. We never spoke, just gave each other a knowing nod as we vibed out into our own worlds, then gave a cordial goodnight when one of us would part. The one thing I learned is there is a lot of friendly folks in the RV world who look out for each other and respect the solitude that most of us are seeking. My neighbor was a man I dubbed “Lonely John.” He was an older gentleman, a veteran with a hearing problem, but he always looked out for me. When I’d go home on the weekends he’d check my rig every night to make sure nobody messed with my stuff. He was always a good resource on questions about my rig when I couldn’t get ahold of my parents.
The only other major issue I had with living in the RV was the black water tank. The “black water tank,” for those of you who don’t RV, is where the poo’s and pee’s go. When you’re hooked up to the sewer line, the black water goo usually goes down the tube, except the particulates. I guess some of the heavier gunk accumulates at the bottom of the tank and becomes a solid mountain of literal shit. I, being a novice, did not know this until I couldn’t figure out what smelt like 30 day old Taco Bell. Imagine, if you will, weeks of waste accumulating at the bottom of a tank in the hot New Mexico summer heat. Yeah… it was a wonderful experience.
After researching what to do, I ended up pouring a ton of tank treatment in there and shoved a garden hose in my toilet to dry and break down the dookie castle I created. From there on out, I had to keep my black water tank valve closed and empty it once a week (or until it filled up). Lesson learned.
Other than that, I flew a lot while in New Mexico and got my license there. It’s some of the most interesting flying out there, with barely any Class C airspace and virtually no Class B. The density altitude and thunderstorms were nuts though. I’ll never forget my first helicopter lesson was done without doors on the little Robinson R-22 death machine because it was too much weight. Nothing like flying 1,000 AGL with your knees sticking out the side of the fuselage…
The New Mexico trip was the catalyst to many things, much of which is why I am where I am today. That experience was both an absolute nightmare at the same time as it was an enjoyable and liberating experience. It was a test for what was to come, without me really knowing it at the time. After the fiasco here in Camarillo I knew the only logical thing to do was to go back to the nomad life where I learned so much about myself. Out there I might find more answers, as I had done before.
