RV Parking Love Language

From 1954's The Long, Long Trailer with Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz. Newly weds in their first "home"

Lucy: You didn't let me finish. I was trying to tell you to turn left. What I was trying to say is 'you turn right here left.'

Desi: Turn right here left?

Lucy: Exactly.

Desi: Have you any conception how much room it takes to turn this thing around? We may have to go on for miles.

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It's "People Watching" for the camping set. Late each afternoon, you notice the slow, waddling sways of wandering RVs as they amble past the sign-in desk toward their evening encampments. You sense the weariness in their faces from the day's drive, but soon witness a transformation. It begins with an instinctive spark of purpose and then the robotic ritual of setting up camp unfolds. With precision timing, each person performs their role, and soon these fellow travelers are on track for their evening agenda. I've watched it again and again. It's an entertaining Ballet in Bermudas as they grace the choreography of nomadic homesteading.

Couples new to RVing often find a steep learning curve. That was our experience. From the comforts of traveling in a car where your biggest concern is red lights on the dash, now there's a new appreciation for widths and lengths, and efficient storage of minimal stuff and maintaining necessary tank levels. The learning curve also holds the less tangible equations of RV ownership. One, in particular, is how rookie travelers develop one of the most basic skills: communicating while parking the recreational vehicle. This component of the RV experience is critical as it affects all other aspects of the joint venture.

Over time, various techniques are employed to develop a personal RV Parking Communication Style (RVPCS). Some incorporate the latest technologies-cell phones or walkie-talkies, others are more robustly vocal, and still others have perfected a modified semaphore signal system to put the rig to rest.

Stopping Short

Our learning curve began with the natural vocal style—just yelling out the window—but we soon found the shortfalls. I had to repeatedly leave the driver's seat to see the facial expressions that often accompany spousal discourse. Non-verbal cues (e.g., the raised eyebrow and rolled eye) are essential to the marital communication experience. The parking process just grew longer than it needed to be for what should be a reasonably easy task.

Our next attempt was to develop a series of hand signals, but Sue struggled with the concept that I had to actually see those signals for any hope of success. She has to be in the vision of my rearview mirrors. I would go looking for her only to find her standing directly behind the motorhome making directing motions I had no way of seeing. Finally, at another camp, in one more trial attempt at communicating, we lined up the mirrors. This time Sue had signals-but they were HER signals. I'm looking in the mirror at a reverse image, straining to hear any verbal cues while I visualize the non-verbal ones. And then, in the mirror's reflection, I see this frantic, double-arm stirring gyration that I later learn is meant for me to turn something in the direction opposite to the reverse image I'm seeing in the mirror. It's literally smoke and mirrors as the RV tail pipe clouds our space. There was no success from this trial, but we did manage to utilize her gestures to shoo away flying bugs from our evening meal.

One of the benefits of frequently setting up campsites is that the repetitiveness fine tunes systems and the tasks are completed with increased efficiency. Our systems and routines as to water, electricity, and accessories were streamlining just fine, but the primary task of simply parking the RV was keeping us from the campfire.

Stay out of the river

The breakthrough finally came late one night as I tried to nod off. Apparently, a vision of me backing off the side of a mountain campsite following her flailing, bug-killing arm motions focused my thoughts on the need to develop a better way to communicate directions.

I thought to myself, what was the most basic information I needed to put the 25-foot motorhome in its designated space? First, I want to know: where I need to end up on the parking pad (left to right and how far back); and second, what are my clearances-overhead and on either side? A single question evolved to guide the communication. Simply (and, with apologies, now graphically stated): I need Sue to answer my question. Where do you want my butt to go? My butt, meaning, by extension, the back of the RV. It worked the first time! It must have been OUR love language. She stood where I could see her in the mirrors and simply gestured left or right as to where the butt of the RV should go. More deliberate signaling to the left means a sharper turn to get there. Lighter arm movements to the left or right to just tweak the trajectory. The simple solution paid big rewards and shortened our time to get to the evening meal by the campfire. (Note: No bugs were lost in the execution of these directions.)

We continue to fine tune the leveling tasks (no automatic lifts on our unit), but we're seeing promise in the process. Each new location and set-up subconsciously adds familiarity to the routine, with a few seconds shaved off here and an understanding of function gained there. The best part of having our own RV parking Love Language, is that it sets the tone for the evening and days ahead.

We wish you success in finding your parking communication. If you ever notice another couple watching you set up camp, it could be us enjoying our evening's entertainment as we observe another Ballet in Bermudas Along the Pooka Trail.