You Might Be an RV Person If... (How Many Are You Guilty Of?)

Alright, we've spent a good while on the serious stuff lately — blowouts, propane, the whole "your RV is not a storm shelter" talk — so today we're having some fun. Because somewhere along the way, camping stops being a thing you do and becomes a thing you are. You cross a line, and you don't even notice it happen, until one day you're standing in your driveway having genuine feelings about a sewer hose.

I'm Joe — Squatch to most folks — and I'll confess right now: I'm guilty of every single one of these. You might be an RV person too, and if so, you're in excellent company. So grab your coffee (in your camping mug, obviously), and let's find out just how far gone you are. Keep a tally — there's a scorecard at the bottom.

You Might Be an RV Person If...

1. You've had a genuinely passionate opinion about sewer hoses. Not a mild preference. A stance. You could give a TED talk. You've judged another man's hose.

2. You judge every parking lot, driveway, and campsite by how level it is. You can't turn it off. You pull into a Cracker Barrel and think, "I could get a rig in here, but that back corner's got a nasty slope."

3. You own more water hoses than pairs of dress shoes. Fresh water hose, rinse hose, the "definitely don't mix these up" hose. Dress shoes? You've got the one pair. For funerals.

4. You know your rig's exact height and mutter it at every overpass. "Eleven-foot-three." You say it out loud. At bridges. At drive-thrus. In your sleep.

5. You've backed into a site while your spouse gave hand signals you're pretty sure they invented on the spot. One of you is now not speaking to the other. This is a normal part of the setup process.

6. You get irrationally excited about a full-hookup site with 50-amp service. A pull-through? With good Wi-Fi? Be still your heart. You've texted a photo of the hookups to someone.

7. You've stood at a dump station having a genuinely bad day and told absolutely no one. What happens at the dump station stays at the dump station. We don't talk about it. We just make eye contact and nod.

8. You've driven off and then hit that cold-sweat moment: "Did I bring the steps in? Is the antenna down? Did I unplug?" You've pulled over to check. You've turned around. We've all turned around.

9. You refer to your actual house as "the sticks and bricks." Your real home, the one with the foundation, is now the backup residence. The rig is where your heart lives.

10. You've made 45 minutes of small talk with a total stranger because they had the same rig as you. Instant best friends. You compared floor plans. You may have toured each other's campers. You'll never see them again and you think about them fondly.

11. You brake for RV dealerships "just to look." You're not buying. You just want to walk through the new models and smell that new-rig smell. (No judgment here. This is, uh, literally my job. Come see me.)

12. Your camera roll is 80% pictures of your rig parked in pretty places. The mountains are nice, sure, but did you get a good shot of the camper in front of the mountains? That's the real photo.

13. You keep a "camping only" set of everything — and it's nicer than your house stuff. Camping dishes, camping chairs, the good camping coffee maker. Your house has mismatched mugs. The rig has a system.

14. You wave at other RVers on the highway like you're in a secret club. Because you are in a secret club. The little wave. The nod. The knowing lift of two fingers off the wheel. IYKYK.

15. Your dream vacation is driving somewhere beautiful to sit outside, next to a vehicle, in a chair. You could sit outside next to a vehicle in a chair at home. But it's not the same, and you know it's not the same, and trying to explain that to a non-RVer is a lost cause.

Squatch's Bonus Round (Advanced RV Person)

You're truly one of us if...

• You've ranked rest areas. You have a favorite rest area.

• You own a single specialized tool whose only job is one oddly specific thing, and you'd defend it with your life.

• You check the weather radar app more than the actual weather.

• You've explained to a horrified non-camper why you can't "just flush it" without a full lecture on holding tanks.

• You've been genuinely, personally offended on behalf of your awning during a windstorm.

Score Yourself

Count 'em up — how RV are you?

• 1–5: You've got the bug. Welcome. It only gets worse from here (in the best way).

• 6–10: You're a bona fide RV person. Your friends have noticed. They've stopped asking about your weekend plans because they already know.

• 11–15: You're deep in it, friend. The rig owns you now. Embrace it.

• 16+ (with the bonus round): You're not reading this blog, you're living it. Come work at the dealership. I'm serious. Call me.

Me? I got all of them, plus the whole bonus round, and I do this for a living. So if you're feeling a little called out right now — welcome to the club. It's the best one there is.

The Truth Underneath the Jokes

Here's the thing, though — under all the ribbing, being an "RV person" is really about something good. It's chasing the sunset. It's slowing down. It's a driveway full of gear and a heart full of "let's just go see what's out there." We give each other the highway wave because we're all chasing the same thing: a little more time outside, a little more time with the people we love, a few more nights under the stars.

So if this post called you out — good. Wear it proud. And if you're not quite there yet but you feel the pull, well... I know a guy who can help with that.

If you're ready to find the rig that turns you into an RV person (or a bigger one), come find me at A&L RV Sales in Christiana, just outside Murfreesboro. No pressure, ever — just one RV person helping another. Give me a call or text at 615-653-7561, or follow along with Camping with Squatch for more straight talk, real help, and the occasional laugh at my own expense.

Now go wave at somebody on the highway. 👋