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“You drive that thing? All by yourself?”
That’s the reaction I get every time I tell people about my RV.
“Yeah, I do,” I reply, often with a grin.
“I couldn’t do it,” they usually respond.
“Yeah, you could,” I say, with all the confidence of someone who’s been there and back. Because the truth is, you could do it.
You just need a dash of confidence, a
spoonful of patience, and a mindset
that refuses to give up.
Let me tell you, I love living in my RV. It’s the perfect mix of freedom, adventure, responsibility, challenge, independence, pride, and a whole lot of fun. In this season of my life, I couldn’t ask for anything more.
So, how did I end up here? Well, let’s rewind a bit…
It all began with the end of my marriage. After reaching the point of irreparable differences, I moved out of the brick-and-mortar home I co-owned with my ex-husband and landed back at my parents’ house. At thirty-four. Not exactly where I pictured myself.
I didn’t want to be there, but staying in that house with my ex wasn’t an option. I consoled myself with the thought that I’d find an apartment soon and reclaim my independence.
But life, as it often does, had other plans.
My mom, bless her adventurous soul, had this dream of buying an RV and touring the country. Her bucket-list fantasy became a reality when I showed up on her doorstep. Intrigued, I started digging into the logistics of RV life, all while apartment hunting in Milwaukee. And then, like a lightning bolt, I realized something amazing: the cost of living in an RV could be comparable to an apartment, if you budget wisely.
I was hooked.
A little background: I’ve always been adventurous. In high school, I spent a summer in northern Spain with EarthWatch. I attended college at Arizona State, clear across the country. I spent a year studying abroad on the Mediterranean coast of Spain. After college, I joined the Peace Corps and spent two life-altering years in Paraguay. All my adventures had primed me for another one. So, with my anxiety and self-disappointment soothed by this new incipient adventure, I dove into planning. For hours. And hours.
I researched, I studied, I interviewed, I toured. I read Randall Eaton’s Motorhome Comparison Guide cover to cover, a half dozen times. I enrolled in the First Time CDL course, thinking I’d need my Class B (spoiler: I didn’t). I chatted with every Class A motorhome owner I could find. Every weekend, my mom and I road-tripped to RV dealers around southeastern Wisconsin, inspecting features and learning the ropes.
All the while, I was untangling myself from my ex-husband and our shared landscaping business. You see, my ex-husband wasn’t a U.S. citizen. We’d met during my Peace Corps service when he was a Paraguayan national. Transferring the business into his name was a legal nightmare, complicated by his immigration status. It took a year for him to become a U.S. citizen. During that time, I lived with my parents, rent-free (thank you, Mom and Dad!), and saved every penny for my next big adventure.
Fifteen long, grueling months after leaving my ex, we were finally divorced, our debts settled, and I was free. Except, my credit was in the tank. So, I waited. I kept saving, learning, and healing.
Fast forward to the end of September 2023. A friend of my sister’s offered to let me drive his Class A. I jumped at the chance, excited to finally get behind the wheel. But then, he canceled on me. Annoyed, Mom and I decided to make the most of our Saturday and visit yet another RV dealer.
And that’s when fate stepped in.
We ended up at Kunes in Kenosha, where, to my utter shock and delight, I found a 2016 Winnebago Brave 29C. Months earlier, I had fallen in love with this exact make and model. The floor plan was perfect: the shower was separate from the bathroom, allowing sunlight to flood the interior. One entire side of the bus was a slide, creating a spacious bathroom, a king-sized bedroom, and a large living room/kitchen area. There was a drop-down loft above the driver’s area, and the TV was positioned perfectly across from the futon sofa, which, by the way, also folded down into a bed.
And the design? A retro throwback to the Winnebagos of the ‘70s. It was cute, functional, and everything I had dreamed of. Except, there were only a few for sale nationwide. I had resigned myself to not getting a Winnebago Brave 29C, at least not anytime soon.
But there it was. Right in front of me.
I made the rookie mistake of gushing to the dealer, ‘There’s nothing wrong with this thing. It’s like it’s brand new!’ Oops. Lesson learned. (Though I did still manage to snag it for a reasonable price!)
Anyway, I applied for financing. My credit score was stuck at 749, just one point shy of the magical 750. By this time, I’d saved up a $10,000 down payment and an emergency fund, but I had no idea if I’d be approved. So, I waited. For a week.
I visited that Winnebago Brave four times, dragging along friends, family, and anyone I could convince to join me on a road trip to see it. But truthfully, their opinions didn’t matter—I was captivated. I wanted it so badly it ached.
When I got the news, I was in disbelief. Right then and there, I wanted to rush down to Kenosha and sign the paperwork, but I had to wait for the unit to be inspected and minor repairs handled. It took three days and two nights.
At the dealership, I was a ball of anxiety. I couldn’t believe it was finally happening. I signed the paperwork, resisted the sales pitch from Camping World, and then—just like that—I was handed the keys.
Fifteen months of planning, dreaming, and waiting had culminated in this moment. It was glorious. And it marked the start of an epic journey, filled with wild mishaps and unforgettable stories waiting to unfold.
During the hour-long drive back to Milwaukee, I found myself in a state of disbelief. Every mile seemed surreal as I clutched the steering wheel, my mind racing with the reality of what had just happened. I kept shaking my head in amazement and muttering to myself, ‘I can’t believe this. I can’t believe it finally happened.’ The road stretched out before me, and as the city lights of Milwaukee came into view, it hit me just how far I’d come.
The journey had been anything but straightforward. It had been almost a year and a half of living with my parents, grappling with the end of my marriage, and disentangling myself from a complex business arrangement. Every day of that year felt like a mix of patience and struggle, punctuated by the hope of something better on the horizon.
As I parked the Winnebago Brave in the driveway for the first time, I reflected on how those months of waiting and rebuilding had led me to this moment. The RV wasn’t just a vehicle; it was a tangible result of resilience and new beginnings. It represented the end of a long chapter and the exciting start of a grand adventure. Filled with a mix of triumph and gratitude, I knew that this was just the beginning of a journey brimming with possibilities and stories yet to unfold.
For those who say, “I couldn’t drive that thing,” I say, “Yes, you could.” If you have a dream, no matter how daunting it might seem, you have the power to make it a reality. It might take time, and you might have to wait while the pieces fall into place, but with perseverance and focus, you too can achieve your dreams. I’ve lived through the trials, and I’ve emerged on the other side with a new beginning and an open road ahead. So embrace your journey, and know that your adventure is waiting just around the corner.
