Thursday, June 17, 2010
RV lifestyles of the rich and fru-fru
Have you ever walked through one of those million dollar motorhomes?
I dig the on-board washer and dryer. The spectacular sound system and the 52-inch HDTV screen that magically slides up out of the furniture are very cool. For the life of me I can't understand why you would want marble counter tops and gold and crystal chandeliers on a mirrored ceiling in a recreational vehicle but that's just a matter of personal taste. To each his own.
They're impressive as heck but what I really don't get is where you find the nerve to drive a million dollar RV on public highways. The fear of having a wreck would make me apoplectic. Bugs smashing themselves into the afterlife on my million dollar windshield would drive me out of my mind. The very idea of attaching a million dollar water and sewage system to public faucets and crapper dump lines would make me a snob on the order of Thurston B. Howell III.
Do these things have bidets? I'm just curious.
I do understand that if you can afford one of these rolling mansions you're not likely to be terribly concerned about the cost of maintenance and insurance. I get that.
But, where do you go in a million dollar motorhome? Yogi Bear's Jellystone Park RV Camp? A KOA littered with kids? A patch of desert in Quartzsite?
Don't you feel just a little ostentatious parking next to a pop-up tent trailer containing a giggling, family of five, ignorantly joyous within their RV peasantry?
A couple of years ago Carolann and I took our brand-new $100,000 motorhome to a swanky RV resort in Vegas, one of those places where you can buy your own lot for a mere quarter-to-a-half-million dollars and dress it up with fancy landscaping and magnificent outdoor patio bars and barbecue islands.
(This picture, taken at the Vegas resort, is not a public group area. It is a single privately owned RV pad. Every feature, including walls and all hardscape are custom-built at the owner's expense. Click on it for a closer view. Click the BACK arrow to return here.)
We were just renting a space for an extravagant weekend celebrating our 20th anniversary. Next to the other motorhomes in that place we felt like the Beverly Hillbillies in our spanking new Sea Breeze.
(Important! If you ever find yourself making a reservation at such a place don't tell them you want "full hookups". They will laugh themselves sick. Instead, ask if the price they quoted includes the butler. Now you've got them on defense.)
I accidentally spent one night at an "eco adventure resort" along the California coast that even I, a native Californian, found hard to believe.
It had a lodge, cabins, RV hookups and tent spaces. It had a spa, complete with hot-tub and massage facilities. Each tent space featured a large wooden deck on which to pitch your tent so it wouldn't have to actually come into contact with dirt. I'm not kidding.
Oh, and no dogs allowed. In a campground!
This place had daily yoga classes. The cutely, quaintly named "General Store" sold breakfast croissants freshly baked on the premises and brewed-while-you-wait, five-dollar Starbucks lattes; it offered fresh fruit, wine and cheese with an assortment of fancy crackers, and the "bar and grille" (the "e" gives a grill respectability, I guess) offered catering services.
In a campground.
You know what it didn't have? Recreational vehicles. Not one until I fell from the sky like a bad penny, alone in my truck camper with my scruffy beard, wearing a sweat-stained cowboy hat and tie-dyed t-shirt.
I looked like a homeless man with gas money.
So, where are these million dollar motorhomes in the real world? Outside of Vegas resorts and RV shows, where are they? Seriously.
I really don't like to sound like a poor snob. As I explained in an earlier post I graduated from dirt camping to motorhome semi-luxury.
© 2010 by David L. Williams, all rights reserved
PS. Last week I asked for pictures of your hometown tourist attractions. I received a few but would like more for the Readers' Scrapbook I plan to add to this blog. If you don't have pictures of local tourist attractions, please take some. Otherwise, just send me your favorite family photos of your adventures out Thataway! You retain all rights and I won't divulge any personal information. I swear.
Send them to: firstname.lastname@example.org