You ever notice how much junk you “need” just to go camping? People act like it’s just a tent and a fire. No. That’s not camping—that’s just homelessness with snacks.
There are two types of campers: the “must-haves” and the “want-haves.” I’m a must-have guy. First must-have: shelter. Could be a $29 Walmart tent… or a $2 million King Aire motorhome. Me? I’m not a CEO or a trust fund kid. Nope, I was cursed with good looks instead of money. So yeah, I’m “roughing it” in a 2020 GMC AT4 pulling a 2022 Grand Design 226RK. Real budget survival.
Now you need supplies. Surge protector—so you don’t fry your camper. Water pressure regulator—so you don’t bust the pipes and fry your camper. Basically, camping is just preventing new ways to electrocute yourself in nature. And of course, you need two hoses: one for fresh water and one for black water. And let me tell you, if you mix those up? You’re not just grossed out. That’s the kind of trauma that makes therapists buy new boats.
And the water filter! Because campground water tastes like… rust, sadness, and regret. If you’ve ever wanted to know what tears taste like—just drink from a KOA faucet.
And if water’s going in, you need water coming out. That’s where the sewer hose comes in. Twenty feet of it. A 90-degree elbow. A sidewinder to keep it off the ground. Because apparently, even my poop needs a roller coaster.
Now, power. You want lights? AC? You need a hookup. If you’ve got two ACs, you need 50 amps. And that cord? Weighs about the same as Mars the Internet Hippo that lives in Kansas (If you have not seen him you really are missing something) . Watching me drag it around looks like World’s Strongest Man: Retirement Edition.
Finally—you get to sit down. Chairs. Prices from $10 to $500. Doesn’t matter—you just need something that fits your budget and your butt. After wrestling hoses and cords, I’d sit on a cactus if it reclined and had a cup holder.
Then the mosquitoes show up. I’d spend whatever it takes not to become the buffet for every bug in the tri-state. Meanwhile, Dawn? Doesn’t get a single bite. Not one. I’ve got theories… but I like living, so I keep those to myself.
Oh, and then there’s Odie, my dog. He’s got an outside fence, a tarp for shade, a tarp to lie on, and his own fancy outdoor dog bed. I’m in a $15 Walmart chair, he’s in the canine Ritz-Carlton. he’s sipping Evian like he owns the place. God forbid the dog doesn’t fly first class.
But you know what? I wouldn’t trade camping for anything. Because where else can you meet new people… while carrying around a plastic bag of poop like it’s the latest Louis Vuitton?
Camping season: wish it lasted longer. My back… does not.
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