This past week we spent camping in Bar Harbor, Maine. I'll blog about that soon, but in the mean time, I'd like to take the opportunity to tell you I am absolutely bereft of any intelligence. As in plain stupid. I'll wait for the chorus of "Amen!" to die down. Applaud if you feel the need.
I realized this, this past week, but reading today about another Casita owner selling their trailer to get a Class C motorhome confirmed it. You see, it's like this...
When we bought our Casita on June 20, 2007 at 7:59AM, I thought by doing so, I would be saving the world, and protecting the environment for our two very young children because the carbon footprint of this magical trailer was so much smaller than other trailers out there...ah shucks!! I can't keep this up and maintain a straight face at the same time. Those thoughts never crossed my mind in a million years.
What really happened is that we drank the fiberglass website-induced Kool-Aid, believing that the hype we read about Casita's or Scamp's or Escapes's being a vastly superior trailer was true. Propaganda. Misinformation. I know better now. How do I know this?
Let's start with the cost. While reasonable compared to an Airstream, if you compare the cubic foot to that of, say a Jayco, well forget it. So strike one.
They must be more economical to tow, right? Uh, no. Not unless you are towing with a V-8. I can say this with the greatest of confidence because I have towed the Casita with 2 V-6 vehicles, and in both cases got between 10 and 13 MPG. C'mon! That's almost as bad as a Class A diesel pusher. As the line in the movie RV goes, "we might as well stay home and set fire to an oil field!". Strike two.
Fine, I know they will last much longer than the stickies-fiberglass never dies. Ok, while this sounds good on paper, I have seen a fair number of original Scotty's the past few years that have to be about as old, or older than the earliest fiberglass trailers. Oh sure, they might not be the rule, but point is, there are other old trailers out there besides fiberglass. Strike three.
There is no question they require less maintenance being composed of only 2 pieces of fiberglass. Really? What about the 7,263 rivet holes drilled through those 2 pieces of fiberglass? And that was that dripping on my face from a rivet the other night while it was raining outside? What? I wasn't supposed to notice that? Strike four.
Here's an argument that is irrefutable. The stickies are just too big to maneuver around in some campsites. Here I must admit, there may be some truth. However, who is laughing about the size of the trailer when it is 54 degrees outside and the 4 of us are huddled around the picnic table, racing to eat our once warm food which is rapidly turning into a block of ice? We have tried the indoor thing in the Casita, but within moments it resembles a game of Twister. It's at that time, when my head is mashed against the window by someone's foot, that I look over at that nice 32' 5th wheel and wonder what it would be like to actually sit in a recliner, reclined, and let the patter of rain lull you into a midsummer's afternoon nap. Strike five.
I could go on, but I don't need to. Why? Because all the strikes against the Casita is what makes us love it so. To a lot of people, it would make no sense to try and understand why we so willingly want to be considered dumb. They don't understand that some of the "flaws" are what makes it special. Go out there and try to find a stickie that will tug at your heartstrings every time you pull into it's campsite. Yup, it's those esoteric things that make us willing to be so dang dumb. So sue me.
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