Owning an RV has taught us a simple truth. Freedom comes with fine print. The reward is obvious, America rolling by the windshield, mountain gaps like Harpers Ferry, quiet campgrounds, old friends, new conversations, and the kind of moments you don’t schedule. The challenge is less romantic. Things break. Not hypothetically, but inevitably. And when they do, the RV world doesn’t work like your local garage. There’s no pulling in, grabbing a coffee, and driving out fixed. There are appointments. Long waits. Parts on backorder. Long drives. Sometimes repeat performances. We’re not complaining. We signed up for this. But when you’re not especially handy, those “little things” become big detours, literally and figuratively.
Last July, while camping in Ohio, our refrigerator decided it had opinions. These modern RV fridges are marvels, electric, propane, DC, all managed by a small electronic brain that’s supposed to switch seamlessly. Ours did not. It blinked, beeped, froze, and then didn’t cool. We were lucky, General RV in Canton was just a few miles away. Six hours later, they reset it and sent us on our way. Two days later, it failed again. Back we went. Four more hours, new diagnosis, the controller was bad. But no part in stock. Another trip would be required. A month later, we drove 330 miles back, only to learn the controller never arrived. Apologies given. Another appointment scheduled. Another month. Another trip.
By December, the saga felt personal. The refrigerator had finally arrived, but we had to come immediately or risk the warranty expiring. Camping wasn’t an option, the forecast dipped into the teens and I’ve learned my limits. So it was a cold drive to Ohio instead. Before leaving, I checked the tires. All six were ten PSI low. Out came the compressor in the freezing morning air. Two tires at a time, then recharge the battery. It took most of the morning. Then came sleet, freezing rain, and a long white-knuckle drive. I stayed in a hotel that looked like a convenience store with beds. My wife says I’m cheap. I say practical. I’m kind of rethinking “practical.”
The next morning brought good news and, of course, more news. The refrigerator was installed and working after three hours. Victory, right? Not quite. I asked them to check the automatic step that hadn’t been behaving. That opened another chapter. While waiting, the room filled. A woman on her second recall visit for seatbelts. A man replacing his step gearbox. I heard his story and quietly recognized my future. Sure enough, my gearbox was shot. No part in stock. Another appointment needed. Five hours after arriving, I headed back to West Virginia through sleet and rain. A trip that usually takes five and a half hours took over eight. The refrigerator is working. For now. And that’s RV life. Worth it, frustrating, humbling, and oddly satisfying. If you know, you know.
