Do we resent RV life?

We just linked enough blog posts that they could be their own novel, but in case you don't feel like reading Brighter on Wheels for hours, let's do the briefest recap:

We bought land in November 2024, which sparked our foray into planning for part-time travel. But home-building is a slow process, and so we knew we still had more full-time travels ahead of us. We set out for one more year in 2025, but the burnout was brewing. Instead of waiting for it to hit full-force, we decided to get off the road early and rent a cottage in NH while we waited to start our construction. The NH cottage didn't work out, and after just a couple weeks, we found ourselves back in the RV, gearing up for another year of travels, this time, unexpected and a little less desired. The burnout that started in 2025 picked right back up in 2026, compounded by a whole mess of problems we faced on the road. In April, we finally hit our breaking point, and we made a bold decision. We didn't wait for our home build. We didn't even return to New England. We set up a new home-base in Myrtle Beach, at a cottage that we lovingly call the Coastal Retreat.

Funny how it took us so long and so many attempts to get off the road, and yet, our actual transition out of full-timing was really sudden. But it was all for good reason. A lot of emotions came with that brewing burnout, and we tried our darndest to stay mindful of them. A sentence began appearing in the blog frequently: "We don't want to end up resenting RV life."

This was the most concise way we could reason our attempts to get off the road. Full-time RV life was a way for us to have amazing adventures and learning experiences while we waited for our "mountain home" chapter to begin. Once that chapter came, our desires leaned towards stability. This meant that, when we had incredible adventures, we couldn't fully appreciate them, and when the tough times hit, we were reminded that our hearts weren't in it anymore. Then, the longer it took to follow our hearts, the worse our relationship with RVing became.

On the surface, it might seem like we got the cottage to escape the RV life, but it was quite the opposite. We did it to save our RV life.

So this leads to our titular question: Did we get off the road in time, or do we resent the RV life?

In some ways, it's an easy answer: No.

But over the course of many conversations, over many months, in many different states of mind, we realized the complexities of our relationship with RV travel.

If we look at our past, RV life has been a huge blessing that's changed the trajectory of our lives forever, for the better. It's the reason we were able to begin our next chapter of building our mountain home. When the perfect lot of land came on the market, we were ready. We had the financial means because we took the leap to sell our home and live a minimalistic, budget-friendly life on the road. We prioritized saving money, continued to work remotely, and built up savings. Then, after we purchased the land, our RV allowed us to experience it right away. We literally towed the RV to the bank for the closing, left and went straight to our new property. Since then, we've made more memories on the land than we can count, and we got to know the layout and energy of it so we can better plan our home and estate.

Even when things started falling apart, our RV remained a respite. It was our safe haven after the NH cottage fell through. But we can go back even further and find many other moments of respite in the trailer. We said goodbye to our cat Lily here, assured that she was living her final minutes in a place she loved, that symbolized the close bond we all grew on the road. Funny to think that we had her for over 9 years before we went full-time, but the 3 years with her on the road bonded us closer than those previous 9 ever did.

We can go back all the way to the start of RV ownership, to before we even moved into the RV. It was parked on my parents' property in what we didn't know would become our "MA home-base," and we were spending our final month in our house 25 minutes north. I was recording for my annual Christmas advent calendar and feeling the strain of living in a highly populated town near commercial streets and emergency facilities. I installed a pickup in my harp for this very reason. The pickup blocks out background sounds because I can record straight through an auxiliary cord. Only this recording wasn't just harp; I had to record vocals, and I needed quiet. I tried all day long to record in short stints before the next truck roared down the street or the next ambulance turned on its sirens. Finally, at midnight, I packed up my recording equipment and drove down to the RV. The insulation isn't much, but the aluminum keeps the acoustics very contained. Here, in the RV I didn't even live in yet, I finished recording the lyrics that have now become emblematic of the complex emotions during times of transition.

If only I knew that night what awaited us in our full-time travels. Buggy continued to be a respite during stressful times, natural disasters, and after long drives. Of course, we could write pages upon pages on the experiences we couldn't have had if not for RV life, but that's basically what the blog is. That stuff goes without saying. If you're brave enough to break the mold and live a life that feels designed for you, extraordinary things can happen.

That brings us to this year. We weren't living lives that aligned anymore, but we don't blame RV life for that. In fact, RV life is what gave us the courage to make a move that few people would be emboldened to make. Our travels expanded our comfort zones so much that we could envision living in a completely different part of the country. Had we just stayed in the Northeast, living in our suburban home, I doubt we would have ever fathomed picking up and moving to SC. Our years of RVing have helped us gain new perspectives. For starters, the country now seems so much more accessible. Then, as we visited more places, we could pinpoint which ones felt like more than a "visit" – places that felt like home. This gave us the confidence that we were making a good decision when we chose to live in SC. It was one of a handful of states on our shortlist of "Yeah, we could live here."

RV life taught us another important perspective: big decisions don't need to be permanent. We didn't rent a cottage and say "This is it, people! We live here now till the day we die!" People ask, "But what about NH?" What about it? It's still there! It's not going anywhere! We learned this mindset right away, when we started telling people we decided to RV full-time. "But what if you don't like it?" Then we stop. "So you're just not going to have a house?" Houses still exist! When we bought the land, we faced similar questions: "Wait, you're planning for a 4-bedroom? I thought you lived tiny." We live tiny because we live in an RV, not the other way around.

It's advice we've given many of our fellow RVers as they choose to get on and off the road: "You can always pivot." And boy do we know the art of the pivot! RV life has taught us to embrace the temporary, dynamic nature of life.

Dynamic is a good word to settle on as we move from our discussion of the past to the present. It's true that our relationship with RVing is still a bit murky due to recent tribulations. We're enjoying our time away from the RV immensely and couldn't be happier with our choice to rent our Coastal Retreat. But when we sit in the cottage and look around, we know that we're there because the RV life made us brave enough to choose it. We look at our cats and think, holy moly, we probably wouldn't have them if not for RV life! We adopted them because we were passing through Ohio and knew about the shelter from YouTube. The RV made the shelter feel so much more accessible. No logistics to work out. The cats would just come in the RV and be with us.

How can we look at the cottage and look at the cats, two of our greatest blessings right now, and resent the RV life? We can't.

And as for the future, we're sure we'll find our part-time RVer legs and learn to love the lifestyle again. After feeling like forced nomads for a year, Buggy finally serves a purpose again. When we return to him, it's not because we have to. It's because we have plans. They might not be grand adventures right now, but we're traveling between our home-bases and visiting family and friends. This is an important purpose. We're not giving up the freedom of the road. We're giving ourselves the freedom to decide how to navigate the road. And someday, we'll feel the itch to set out on another grand adventure, to travel further, to learn more. And when this feeling returns, we'll be ready for it, because we still have lots of love for RV life and lots more travel ahead. We just need a little time to heal.