May, 2014 Jim and Jaylene Myers knew exactly what they wanted to do when they retired in 2008: Go wherever whim and chance might take them in their 45-foot recreational vehicle.
In the last five years Jim, 63, a former paper manufacturing executive from Seattle, and Jaylene, 62, a former schoolteacher, have camped in Yellowstone and Glacier National Parks, retraced the route followed by 19th-century wagon trains, gone fly fishing in Colorado, visited the Alamo in Texas and relatives in Alabama, and devoured crawfish in Breaux Bridge, La. Along the way they have befriended hundreds of other R.V. aficionados who, as he put it, are also “living the dream.”
“When I was working, my life was my schedule,” Mr. Myers said. “It was an endless run of meetings. One thing I wanted when I retired was to not have a schedule and to get to know places I’d only seen from airplanes on business trips.”
The Myerses are members of a high-octane tribe of retirees who are transforming their golden years into a golden age of adventure on the open road. Inspired by disparate strands of the American way of life — from don’t-tread-on-me individualism to an it-takes-a-village communitarianism, from a love of nature to a craving for the best creature comforts modernity can offer (or both) — they are a wildly diverse bunch.
Some live in small trailers that cost a few thousand dollars and are barely larger than a van. Others cruise the country in expensive rigs — such as those favored by celebrity R.V. enthusiasts like Clarence Thomas and Robert De Niro — with flat-screen televisions and king-size beds. Some seek the country’s most isolated nooks and crannies; others stay in plush R.V. resorts that offer more activities than costly summer camps for children. Most travel as couples; a few go solo.
They include former teachers, lawyers, doctors, firefighters, artists and corporate executives. Not that it matters. In R.V. culture, “no one asks what you’ve done,” said Kathi Vogler, 64, a retired nurse from Pompton Plains, N.J., who has traveled with her husband, John, a retired middle school principal, for five years, “just where you’ve been, where you’re going, what you’ve seen.”
The best estimates say 750,000 to one million retirees call R.V.s home, according to Kevin Broom, director of media relations for the Recreation Vehicle Industry Association. He said independent studies suggested their ranks were growing. Although the recession took a toll on sales of new R.V.s, the number of R.V. owners 55 and older increased 20 percent, to 3.6 million, from 2005 through 2011.
That is not surprising. “We are seeing a lot more people, 55, 57, 58, who got laid off and decided they couldn’t handle retirement,” said David Gorin, an industry consultant from McLean, Va. “We’re also seeing more people who can use technology to work from the road and those who have just decided, ‘Let’s enjoy life while we can.’ ” The Affordable Care Act may also make it easier for retirees who do not qualify for military benefits or Medicare to secure health insurance, making health care more accessible on the road.
The idea of retiring to an R.V. rarely comes in a flash of inspiration. “Most people in the R.V. community come up through camping, starting when they were children,” said Tim Deputy, general manager of the Sun-N-Fun Carefree RV Resort in Sarasota, Fla.
That camping experience is important because even the most plush R.V.s, with multiple rooms that slide out from the main body, providing up to 450 square feet of space, are smaller than the average home. If sleeping in a tent was your idea of a good time, an R.V. might seem like Versailles.
“If I drive and I have to go to the bathroom, I have a bathroom,” explained David Woodworth, 74, an R.V. historian who has crisscrossed the country dozens of times. “If we don’t make it to where we need to at night it doesn’t matter because we still have a comfortable bed.”
But the R.V. landscape has changed considerably in the last decade because of new technologies and the active lifestyle embraced by baby boomers. When Jaimie Hall Bruzenak, 69, began full-time R.V. living in 1992, cellphones, the Internet and satellite television were nascent technologies. She needed a service to forward her snail mail and an 800 number where friends could leave messages she would answer at pay phones. Now online banking gives her and her husband, George, instant access to Social Securitychecks; Skype allows them to stay in touch with friends and GPS makes it hard to get lost and easy to find stores. Solar panels help power her rig. Oddly enough, these advances have made it easier for them to live in the wild.
“We love boondocking,” or camping without hookups for water or electricity, “in national parks and other public lands, away from everything except nature,” said Ms. Bruzenak, whose books on the lifestyle include “Retire to an RV: The Roadmap to Affordable Retirement.”
Parks and other public lands remain among the most popular destinations, said Jeff Crider, an industry consultant in Palm Desert, Calif. “There are about 6,000 public campgrounds in the country, many of them in the most beautiful places on earth,” he said.
Budget cuts create opportunities for these retirees, as park agencies increasingly rely on volunteers. Called V.I.P.s (volunteers in park), they provide visitor information, patrol trails and present programs in exchange for camping privileges and an opportunity to explore the park in depth. Allen Parsons, 79, a former financial planner, and his wife, Bonnie, 69, a former physician assistant, who lived near Philadelphia, have served as “volunteer interpretive rangers” at several national parks, including Yosemite, Yellowstone and Petrified Forest.
Since hitting the road in 2007, they have observed bears, bison and many other species while wandering through every state in the lower 48. His voice filled with wonder, Mr. Parsons recalled watching animals congregate at the remaining water holes when the Everglades dried out in the spring. “As crocodiles lazed nearby, we watched an osprey family in their massive nest,” he said. “The mother is feeding her three young fledglings, as big as the adults, and chases away a vulture, while she’s calling to her mate to provide more fish. On our last day at Flamingo we saw the fledglings fly for the first time.”
For Wendy Parsels, 50, and her husband, Charles, 65, retiring to an R.V. in 2007 offered the chance to see America, and each other. We “hadn’t spent a ton of time together” because of their careers in the military, she explained. “I’d seen a lot of the world but not the U.S.,” added Ms. Parsels. As her husband drove their motor home along U.S. 301 in Florida — “we just decided yesterday to go,” she said — she said that they avoid Interstate highways “at all costs,” preferring “two-lane roads” that “allow us to go through all the small towns.”
“If we see something that sounds interesting, like the smallest church in America,” in South Newport, Ga., “or the smallest post office,” near Ochopee, Fla., “or the 40-acre-rock,“ in Kershaw, S.C., “we’ll see it,” she said. They had to pare down their possessions, but she said she did not miss “all that stuff.” Instead of straining their marriage, their tight quarters have brought them closer together, she said. “We are always out doing something,” she said. “The only time you’re cooped up is when it is raining.”
Two great myths surround R.V. owners. The first is that they are in constant motion. Even if high gas prices and poor gas mileage did not make travel expensive — a typical large rig might get seven to 10 miles a gallon — owners say the destination is even more important than the journey. Instead of bouncing from attraction to attraction, most spend weeks or months camped at particular locations. The second myth is that R.V. owners are a solitary lot, a gang of two. A prime attraction is a sense of community — Deadhead bohemianism mixed with Mayberry traditionalism — kindled by its like-minded members.
“It is a very social lifestyle,” said Roger Buchanan, vice president for regional operations at Carefree Communities, which owns and operates 79 R.V. and manufactured home parks in the United States and Canada. “When someone first comes to an R.V. park, they are coming into the site, people next to them are giving directions, ‘pull forward,’ and help them get set up,” he said. “They ask where they are from, ask them to come to the campfire, and then maybe have a drink or dinner.”
Many of the country’s roughly 8,000 private R.V. parks serve as seasonal homes to travelers fleeing cold or heat. Florida and Arizona are popular in the winter, Maine, Washington and the Upper Midwest in the summer. They become instant small towns whose members live cheek to jowl on lots, usually 20 feet by 40 feet, that rent for about $400 a month. Traditionally, most parks offered a few geriatric activities like bingo and shuffleboard. Baby boomers demand more, Mr. Buchanan said. Some resorts offer modern gyms, pools and hundreds of activities.
While some are on an endless road trip, many decide to settle down after a few years, for health or other reasons. Some return to the homes they never sold or buy houses near adult offspring. Others, still hooked on the life, if not the road, put down stakes in R.V. parks. That is one reason the park model home, a less mobile, R.V.-type structure that generally sells for $25,000 to $125,000, is becoming increasingly popular, Mr. Buchanan said.
After five years on the road, Ms. Vogler, the New Jersey nurse, and her husband recently bought a model home in a Sarasota R.V. resort. Their days are packed playing bocce and pickleball (an easier form of tennis), riding motorcycles and bikes, and taking woodworking and jewelry classes. She recently took up the guitar. “As you get older, it’s important to stay active and be part of a strong community of people who want to do something,” she said. “It keeps you young; it keeps you moving.”
A version of this article appears in print on May 15, 2014, on page F1 of the New York edition with the headline: R.V. Life: Getting Kicks at Age 66. Order Reprints|Today's Paper|Subscribe
In the last five years Jim, 63, a former paper manufacturing executive from Seattle, and Jaylene, 62, a former schoolteacher, have camped in Yellowstone and Glacier National Parks, retraced the route followed by 19th-century wagon trains, gone fly fishing in Colorado, visited the Alamo in Texas and relatives in Alabama, and devoured crawfish in Breaux Bridge, La. Along the way they have befriended hundreds of other R.V. aficionados who, as he put it, are also “living the dream.”
“When I was working, my life was my schedule,” Mr. Myers said. “It was an endless run of meetings. One thing I wanted when I retired was to not have a schedule and to get to know places I’d only seen from airplanes on business trips.”
The Myerses are members of a high-octane tribe of retirees who are transforming their golden years into a golden age of adventure on the open road. Inspired by disparate strands of the American way of life — from don’t-tread-on-me individualism to an it-takes-a-village communitarianism, from a love of nature to a craving for the best creature comforts modernity can offer (or both) — they are a wildly diverse bunch.
Some live in small trailers that cost a few thousand dollars and are barely larger than a van. Others cruise the country in expensive rigs — such as those favored by celebrity R.V. enthusiasts like Clarence Thomas and Robert De Niro — with flat-screen televisions and king-size beds. Some seek the country’s most isolated nooks and crannies; others stay in plush R.V. resorts that offer more activities than costly summer camps for children. Most travel as couples; a few go solo.
They include former teachers, lawyers, doctors, firefighters, artists and corporate executives. Not that it matters. In R.V. culture, “no one asks what you’ve done,” said Kathi Vogler, 64, a retired nurse from Pompton Plains, N.J., who has traveled with her husband, John, a retired middle school principal, for five years, “just where you’ve been, where you’re going, what you’ve seen.”
The best estimates say 750,000 to one million retirees call R.V.s home, according to Kevin Broom, director of media relations for the Recreation Vehicle Industry Association. He said independent studies suggested their ranks were growing. Although the recession took a toll on sales of new R.V.s, the number of R.V. owners 55 and older increased 20 percent, to 3.6 million, from 2005 through 2011.
That is not surprising. “We are seeing a lot more people, 55, 57, 58, who got laid off and decided they couldn’t handle retirement,” said David Gorin, an industry consultant from McLean, Va. “We’re also seeing more people who can use technology to work from the road and those who have just decided, ‘Let’s enjoy life while we can.’ ” The Affordable Care Act may also make it easier for retirees who do not qualify for military benefits or Medicare to secure health insurance, making health care more accessible on the road.
The idea of retiring to an R.V. rarely comes in a flash of inspiration. “Most people in the R.V. community come up through camping, starting when they were children,” said Tim Deputy, general manager of the Sun-N-Fun Carefree RV Resort in Sarasota, Fla.
That camping experience is important because even the most plush R.V.s, with multiple rooms that slide out from the main body, providing up to 450 square feet of space, are smaller than the average home. If sleeping in a tent was your idea of a good time, an R.V. might seem like Versailles.
“If I drive and I have to go to the bathroom, I have a bathroom,” explained David Woodworth, 74, an R.V. historian who has crisscrossed the country dozens of times. “If we don’t make it to where we need to at night it doesn’t matter because we still have a comfortable bed.”
It is possible to live quite cheaply in an R.V. Some devotees save big by establishing residency in income-tax-free states like Florida, Texas or South Dakota. Economic necessity, however, does not seem to be a prime motivation for most. Mr. Woodworth said the appeal had changed little since the first R.V.s were introduced around 1910 — adventure, freedom, spontaneity and community are words R.V. owners use frequently.
But the R.V. landscape has changed considerably in the last decade because of new technologies and the active lifestyle embraced by baby boomers. When Jaimie Hall Bruzenak, 69, began full-time R.V. living in 1992, cellphones, the Internet and satellite television were nascent technologies. She needed a service to forward her snail mail and an 800 number where friends could leave messages she would answer at pay phones. Now online banking gives her and her husband, George, instant access to Social Securitychecks; Skype allows them to stay in touch with friends and GPS makes it hard to get lost and easy to find stores. Solar panels help power her rig. Oddly enough, these advances have made it easier for them to live in the wild.
“We love boondocking,” or camping without hookups for water or electricity, “in national parks and other public lands, away from everything except nature,” said Ms. Bruzenak, whose books on the lifestyle include “Retire to an RV: The Roadmap to Affordable Retirement.”
Parks and other public lands remain among the most popular destinations, said Jeff Crider, an industry consultant in Palm Desert, Calif. “There are about 6,000 public campgrounds in the country, many of them in the most beautiful places on earth,” he said.
Budget cuts create opportunities for these retirees, as park agencies increasingly rely on volunteers. Called V.I.P.s (volunteers in park), they provide visitor information, patrol trails and present programs in exchange for camping privileges and an opportunity to explore the park in depth. Allen Parsons, 79, a former financial planner, and his wife, Bonnie, 69, a former physician assistant, who lived near Philadelphia, have served as “volunteer interpretive rangers” at several national parks, including Yosemite, Yellowstone and Petrified Forest.
Since hitting the road in 2007, they have observed bears, bison and many other species while wandering through every state in the lower 48. His voice filled with wonder, Mr. Parsons recalled watching animals congregate at the remaining water holes when the Everglades dried out in the spring. “As crocodiles lazed nearby, we watched an osprey family in their massive nest,” he said. “The mother is feeding her three young fledglings, as big as the adults, and chases away a vulture, while she’s calling to her mate to provide more fish. On our last day at Flamingo we saw the fledglings fly for the first time.”
For Wendy Parsels, 50, and her husband, Charles, 65, retiring to an R.V. in 2007 offered the chance to see America, and each other. We “hadn’t spent a ton of time together” because of their careers in the military, she explained. “I’d seen a lot of the world but not the U.S.,” added Ms. Parsels. As her husband drove their motor home along U.S. 301 in Florida — “we just decided yesterday to go,” she said — she said that they avoid Interstate highways “at all costs,” preferring “two-lane roads” that “allow us to go through all the small towns.”
“If we see something that sounds interesting, like the smallest church in America,” in South Newport, Ga., “or the smallest post office,” near Ochopee, Fla., “or the 40-acre-rock,“ in Kershaw, S.C., “we’ll see it,” she said. They had to pare down their possessions, but she said she did not miss “all that stuff.” Instead of straining their marriage, their tight quarters have brought them closer together, she said. “We are always out doing something,” she said. “The only time you’re cooped up is when it is raining.”
Two great myths surround R.V. owners. The first is that they are in constant motion. Even if high gas prices and poor gas mileage did not make travel expensive — a typical large rig might get seven to 10 miles a gallon — owners say the destination is even more important than the journey. Instead of bouncing from attraction to attraction, most spend weeks or months camped at particular locations. The second myth is that R.V. owners are a solitary lot, a gang of two. A prime attraction is a sense of community — Deadhead bohemianism mixed with Mayberry traditionalism — kindled by its like-minded members.
“It is a very social lifestyle,” said Roger Buchanan, vice president for regional operations at Carefree Communities, which owns and operates 79 R.V. and manufactured home parks in the United States and Canada. “When someone first comes to an R.V. park, they are coming into the site, people next to them are giving directions, ‘pull forward,’ and help them get set up,” he said. “They ask where they are from, ask them to come to the campfire, and then maybe have a drink or dinner.”
Many of the country’s roughly 8,000 private R.V. parks serve as seasonal homes to travelers fleeing cold or heat. Florida and Arizona are popular in the winter, Maine, Washington and the Upper Midwest in the summer. They become instant small towns whose members live cheek to jowl on lots, usually 20 feet by 40 feet, that rent for about $400 a month. Traditionally, most parks offered a few geriatric activities like bingo and shuffleboard. Baby boomers demand more, Mr. Buchanan said. Some resorts offer modern gyms, pools and hundreds of activities.
While some are on an endless road trip, many decide to settle down after a few years, for health or other reasons. Some return to the homes they never sold or buy houses near adult offspring. Others, still hooked on the life, if not the road, put down stakes in R.V. parks. That is one reason the park model home, a less mobile, R.V.-type structure that generally sells for $25,000 to $125,000, is becoming increasingly popular, Mr. Buchanan said.
After five years on the road, Ms. Vogler, the New Jersey nurse, and her husband recently bought a model home in a Sarasota R.V. resort. Their days are packed playing bocce and pickleball (an easier form of tennis), riding motorcycles and bikes, and taking woodworking and jewelry classes. She recently took up the guitar. “As you get older, it’s important to stay active and be part of a strong community of people who want to do something,” she said. “It keeps you young; it keeps you moving.”
A version of this article appears in print on May 15, 2014, on page F1 of the New York edition with the headline: R.V. Life: Getting Kicks at Age 66. Order Reprints|Today's Paper|Subscribe
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