I Drove a 40-Foot Motorhome in Rush Hour Traffic: RVing in Retirement

Summary

A woman recounts her harrowing experience of driving a large motorhome in heavy traffic during rush hour in Palm Springs, California, after her husband needed a bathroom break.

Abstract

The narrative describes a couple's challenging journey in a 40-foot motorhome during their retirement RV trip. As they approach Palm Springs on a Friday afternoon, they find themselves in gridlocked traffic. The husband, Randy, urgently needs to use the restroom, prompting him to suggest that his wife, Brenda, take the wheel despite her lack of experience driving such a large vehicle. Brenda reluctantly agrees, and as she takes control, the traffic begins to move, leading to an anxiety-induced test of the RV's brakes that results in a jolt and her husband's surprise from the bathroom. The story humorously captures Brenda's internal struggle, her quick adaptation to the situation, and the couple's misadventure on the road.

Opinions

Brenda initially views driving the motorhome with trepidation due to its size and her inexperience.
Randy's urgency due to his need for a bathroom break is palpable and influences the couple's decision-making.
The author humorously describes the traffic as moving at the pace of a "one-legged horse," indicating severe congestion and slow progress.
Brenda's anxiety about operating the motorhome is evident, especially when she feels the need to test the brakes abruptly.
The story portrays Randy's casual demeanor and confidence in Brenda's ability to handle the situation, despite her apprehension.
Brenda's self-assurance grows as she successfully navigates the RV, albeit with an unexpected brake test that startles Randy.
The couple's adventure reflects the unpredictable and sometimes comical nature of RVing in retirement.

We only moved about 6 feet

My husband needed relief. We traveled for several hours but knowing only 20 minutes remained, we powered through. As we entered the Palm Springs area in California, the traffic became heavier. The word congestion began to gain new meaning as we noticed the clock on the dash announced 4:30, and it was Friday. It felt like we were in a holiday parade moving at the pace of a horse drawn carriage with a one-legged horse. Only the majority of the time we were not moving at all. The break Randy desperately needed didn’t seem like a possibility, but waiting was an impossibility.

With large, pleading eyes he made a suggestion, “Hon, why don’t you slide behind the wheel and I will run back to the bathroom.”

With large, frightened eyes I responded, “You are crazy! I have never driven a motorhome and this thing is bigger than some people’s homes.”

With a wink and a smile, Randy explained the logic behind his lunacy. The traffic was basically at a standstill. He would only be away a moment. I simply had to keep my foot on the brake and if the cars moved, let The Beast idle forward slowly. He tried to convince me that I could fill his place with my eyes closed. His words did not persuade me to slide behind the wheel, but his squirming in the seat concerned me enough to exchange places with him.

As he stood up to allow me to slide into his seat, the cars began moving faster than during any of the previous ten minutes. Now, I did close my eyes. “Brenda, breathe. You can do this. Just take your foot off the brake and point the wheels straight ahead.”

As he turned to walk to the back of the coach, he casually mentioned over his shoulder, “Remember if you need to slow down or stop hit the brake pedal hard because the RV is heavy and requires pressure.” Then he disappeared behind a door, I think. Don’t worry I did have my eyes open, but there was no way I could turn around to investigate his disappearance. I couldn’t see him, but I heard a door shut.

In the span of less than a minute the traffic began moving again so I accelerated a teeny tiny little bit. Then Randy’s final words flashed through my mind, “hit the pedal hard.” My mind scrolled through the possible scenarios of how this event might end. All climaxed with me rear-ending the Toyota Corolla in front of me. Visions of King Kong stepping on an ant made me wonder just how hard I would have to hit the brake pedal.

Of course, just to be prepared, I felt the responsibility to find out before the space between me and that Toy car evaporated. So, I slowly raised my foot up, placed it above the brake and “hit the pedal hard.” I heard metal hitting metal. Thankfully the clanking came from the pans in the cupboard banging together. Then I heard my husband yell from the bathroom, “What the hell!?”

I exclaimed, “No worries. I tested the brakes.”

When he returned to reclaim his seat seconds later, he looked disgruntled. Almost simultaneously, when he turned 60 and retired, his bladder shrunk making frequent bathroom stops necessary. The excitement of getting to our destination had pushed us to maximum bladder capacity. Couple that with my experimentation with using the brakes, I had made a bad situation worse. I thought I had done a great job until he explained how his body reacted to the abrupt jolt. At the time, my laughter kept me from thinking of the consequences of his loss of balance.

However, the walls could be washed when we parked The Beast.

Humor

I Drove a 40-Foot Motorhome in Rush Hour Traffic: RVing in Retirement

We only moved about 6 feet