A Road Trip, a Rental RV, and a Lesson in Letting Go

Road trips are supposed to be the ultimate family adventure. You pack up the essentials, leave behind the daily grind, and hit the open road. For us, it was more than just a vacation—it was a chance to bond, to explore, and to test out the RV life before diving in. After years of dreaming about cross-country journeys, we decided to dip our toes into the RV world by renting one. That’s where things got interesting.

It started with excitement. We rented a Class B RV that looked perfect online. The pictures showcased a sleek, modern interior with everything we needed to keep the kids entertained and comfortable. But, as with most things too good to be true, our RV adventure quickly took a turn for the worse.

On day one, we hit the road with enthusiasm, watching the scenery roll by, imagining cozy nights around the campfire. But that evening, parked at our first destination, the generator sputtered and died. No lights, no AC, no way to heat the water for the kids’ shower. We tried troubleshooting—pulling up YouTube videos, flipping through the manual—but nothing worked. Frustrated, we messaged the RV owner, expecting some form of guidance. What we got instead was a barrage of accusations. According to her, we had run the generator with no gas, something she insisted only someone completely inexperienced would do. We hadn’t done that, but trying to convince her otherwise was a battle we clearly weren’t going to win.

By day two, we were starting to realize that this “great escape” was going to be more of an endurance test. Every hiccup, every malfunction, was met with condescending messages from the owner. She was convinced we were the problem, and she wasn’t shy about telling us. At one point, she even hinted that maybe we just weren't cut out for the RV lifestyle.

The final straw came on the third night, when the heater refused to work. It was cold, and the kids were shivering. Again, the owner refused to help, insisting that we were mishandling her precious van. And then, out of nowhere, she texted us demanding we return the RV—immediately. We were miles from home, still had a full day left of our rental, and now we were being ordered to bring it back early. The kids were confused, my partner and I were frustrated beyond belief, and the whole trip was unraveling in a way we couldn’t have predicted.

We packed up, driving back through a relentless downpour, trying to make the best of the situation. We returned the RV a day early, soaking wet and emotionally drained. The trip had been a disaster, but oddly enough, as we drove home in silence, something clicked. I realized that no amount of planning, no picture-perfect rental, could guarantee a smooth journey. Things would always go wrong—whether it was a faulty generator or an uncooperative owner—and the key to surviving it all was learning to let go.

You see, I had gone into this trip with big expectations. I wanted everything to be just right: the van, the campsites, the experiences. But what I got instead was a lesson in embracing the unexpected. We didn’t get the trip we imagined, but we got something else—memories. Maybe not the kind you brag about on social media, but the kind that teach you what really matters. We still had time together as a family, still laughed around the campfire (even if it was just one night), and still managed to see the beauty of the road, even with all the chaos in the background.

In the end, I think that’s what road trips, and maybe life in general, are all about. They don’t always go according to plan. Sometimes, the generator breaks down, or the plumbing backs up, or the owner blames you for things beyond your control. But when the dust settles—or in our case, when the rain stops—you realize that those mishaps are just part of the journey. They test your patience, stretch your resilience, and teach you the fine art of letting go.

So, would I rent an RV again? Probably. But next time, I’ll be ready for whatever comes my way—good, bad, or just plain bizarre.