We first met our Monarch SE by Monaco in March of 2003 in Las Vegas, NV. We flew from San Francisco on one-way tickets knowing that we’d be driving her back. We had already decided on her name: Grace Grimaldi. (For those of you who don’t get the reference, Grace Grimaldi, the former Grace Kelly, was, until her untimely demise, the Monarch of Monaco.) It was exciting, and terrifying, knowing that our whole lives would be changing very soon.

We checked in at the Oasis Las Vegas RV Resorttand waited for Grace to arrive. The driver had called us and estimated he’d be there within the hour. Having never been to an RV park before, we walked around the place getting our bearings. In the main building there was a café, a gifts and sundries store, a small gym, and several meeting rooms. Outside, there was a nice pool and lots and lots of spaces. We walked around the park taking it all in. I remember thinking, “Why are the spaces so close together?” Little did I know at that point that this park actually had really nice and relatively big spaces. Ah, we had so much to learn.

Our coach finally arrived and the driver walked us through the basics of how to hook up, how to level the coach and the various other essentials that we’d need. My husband, Wally, took it all in while I slowly got more and more freaked out by what we had committed to. This was going to be our home? What had I been thinking?

We were spending a couple of days in Las Vegas before starting to head back to California to pack our stuff into the rig, so we got a cab to the closest supermarket (we did not have our toad yet) and loaded up on essentials. When we got back to the rig, we realized that we were really nervous and tired, so we ordered a pizza to be delivered instead of rustling up our own grub. This was a great decision. The pizza was delivered, we broke open a bottle of red wine, and toasted our new abode. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

After dinner we turned on the TV and tried to get comfortable. Now, like many coaches our TV is located above the dash in the cockpit, which may be great from an installation point of view, but from a comfortable watching point of view, it really sucks. First of all, everything in the RV is oriented the other way, if you turn the cockpit chairs around, like you’re supposed to, there’s no way you can sit in them and watch the TV. The couch only accommodated one person (unless you open it up), and the barrel chair is also at an uncomfortable angle for TV viewing. Not only that, but one inevitably bashes their head on the corner of the TV several times a week at first, while getting anything out of the cockpit area. And that hurts. A lot.

But after awhile, we finally got comfy, when suddenly someone opened our door and started to walk in! We hadn’t thought to lock the door to the rig, and this woman, obviously confused since it was dark out and all the coaches look the same out there, thought this was her coach. She screamed, we screamed and she backed out apologizing.

LESSON #1: Lock the door to the coach at night. Not from predators, but from fellow RVers who aren’t paying attention and are confused by all these big white boxes with the ugly swirls on the side that all look the same. I must add that in the over two years that we lived full-time in the RV, that is the only time anyone walked into our coach uninvited. Figures it was the first night and all.

The next day was a beautiful spring Las Vegas day and since we had the whole day in Vegas, we decided to walk the strip. So we started walking…and walking…and walking.

By late afternoon we got to the end of the strip where the Fashion Island Mall is located and decided that there was no way we were walking back. We hailed a cab and got back to the RV safe and sound.

LESSON #2: RV parks are rarely “where the action is.” We’ve found very few RV parks that are walking distance to a supermarket and/or restaurants. It’s just a fact of space and zoning, I’m sure, but we learned quickly that we’d need to tow a car (for more on how we found our “toad” click here).

That evening we decided to treat ourselves, so we took the RV park’s shuttle bus to the nearest steak house and had a good meal. It was obvious that we were going to have to start cooking at some point, but we had to get through these first days.

We fell asleep quickly that night, tired out from our long walk, our big feast, and anticipating our first ride in the morning.
The next morning we got up and started to get ready to drive to Los Angeles. We figured that it wouldn’t be a problem to do the drive in one day, since we’d done it by car many time and it only took around five hours.

Now, in our small family, meaning Wally and myself, I do most of the driving. Wally would agree I’m just the better driver. I can’t tell you how many times we’ve pulled into RV parks and shocked the owners when we switch to me driving if there’s a tricky back up maneuver to be done. But I always do in one take. So, here we are, ready to embark on this first drive, and I can’t drive. I am totally freaked out by the whole idea of driving this thing, quitting my job, living in an RV, that I can barely even talk, let alone drive. Thankfully, when I fell apart, Wally gained confidence, so he told me not to worry, he’d drive. Fine. He really didn’t have a choice at that point.

After packing up all the accessories and figuring out how all the parts went back in to the coach, we started out around mid-day. This was fine. We figured we’d get to the RV park in Malibu at around 5:30-6:00 p.m.

Driving an RV is a very different experience than driving a car. Partly, I believe, because many of us have been driving since we were teenagers, so many things about the car are second nature. We’re used to how the road looks from a car, where the mirrors are, how much space we take up on the road. But in an RV, suddenly, you’re three times higher than anyone else. Your whole perspective of the road changes. You’re also driving a machine that is twice as wide as your car. Suddenly, staying in between the lines is something you have to concentrate on. This is not something that you’ve had to think about since, maybe the eleventh grade. The side view mirrors, something that you glanced at once in awhile in the car, have now become major instruments of your on the road safety. And then, of course, there the little issue of the first time you look over your shoulder to look out the back window and see…the kitchen! Whoa! That will definitely freak you out. Needless to say, until you get used to all the changes that driving an RV entails, it’s a white-knuckle ride.

We pull out of the RV Park and get onto the highway with no problems. Wally grabs the wheel with a steel grip, while I hold onto my armrests with equal fervor. We ride in silence, just hoping that we don’t sideswipe someone’s car. I’m constantly pulling away from the window because I am sure he is going to hit the railing on the right side of the road. When he really gets too close I yelp and he straightens back out. His cell phone rings and I frantically yell “He’s driving!” as I hang up on the utterly confused caller. Every time Wally asks for a sip from his water bottle, it’s like we’re committing some death-defying aerial trick.

We’re not driving as fast as we would normally drive in our sporty little Miata, so we end up hitting the outskirts of Los Angeles right about rush hour.

LESSON #3 – You probably won’t drive your RV as fast as your sporty little Miata, so factor in that time!

Now we are sitting in a horrendous Los Angeles traffic jam inching our way north towards Malibu. This was not what we had in mind. We’re also watching the sun set over LA and dreading the fact that we will have to finish our first ride in the dark. Things are not going well. We call the park and tell them we will be arriving late. They are not worried and just tell us to check in with the night manager. At least we know that we’ll have a space to park at the end of this odyssey, which will come to end at some point, I think.

My father and sister are waiting patiently to drive out and see our new toy. I keep calling them with later and later arrival times, wishing they would suggest coming out the next morning, but as someone said to me, “You have the newest, biggest toy in the family. Of course you can’t keep them away.”

We get onto the 101 North, which is much clearer at this point. It’s already past 8:00 p.m. and dark out. We’ve been instructed to take the Las Virgenes exit and follow the road all the way through Malibu Canyon until we hit the ocean. But first we have to get gas. Again, we are not used to the fact that we are only getting 7 or 8 miles to the gallon, and on top of that we sat in a traffic jam for 2 hours. We need gas. Wally doesn’t want to get to the park on empty. He’s probably right, but all I want to do is stop. In any event, we pull into the gas station.

Wally starts to slowly maneuver the coach toward the gas pump. We’ve assessed that we can clear the overhang, but having never done this before, I don’t jump out to guide him towards the pump. I can barely move at this point, so I wouldn’t have been much good anyway. He’s pulling in around the gas pump island, while of course, the one other patron there is watching us intently, when CRACK! The most dreaded sound to be heard is sounded. We’ve scratched the brand new RV against the concrete flowerpot. I am devastated. Wally jumps out to survey the damage, which ain’t pretty. The bay that houses the generator is wedged up against the flowerpot. It’s dented and is scratched badly. The other patron comes over and helps guide us away from the offending pot. “Why the hell to they put those things here anyway???” rants Wally. I am now not just devastated, I am utterly devastated. Wally fills the gas tank with nearly $100.00 worth of gas – adding insult to injury.

LESSON #4 – Always have someone guide you into position at the gas pump even if you think you don’t need it. You don’t want to scratch the side of your coach or take off part of the roof, and it’s always nice to stretch your legs.

Now, even more shaken up, and tired to boot, we start down Malibu Canyon Road toward the ocean. Little did we know that Malibu Canyon Road is a twisty two-lane road that winds through the pitch-dark Malibu Canyon for a good ten miles. So here we are, tired, freaked out about smashing our new coach, hungry and scared to death of this last part of the drive. We are very quiet now. We don’t want to die on our first day out. How embarrassing would that be?

We finally make it down to the end of Malibu Canyon Road and make the right onto Pacific Coast Highway. It’s close to nine o’clock now and we’ve been on this journey for over eight hours. Our destination, the Malibu Beach RV Resort is just a couple of miles down the road on the right. We get there and make the hairpin turn up the driveway. We’re almost there.

The night manger greets us and hands us our paperwork. She shows us on the map how to get to our space. We drive around the park until we get to the spot and realize – we have to back in. Remember, we didn’t park our coach in Las Vegas, the delivery driver did and anyway, it was a nice level pull-through space. This is a back-in, dirt space that hangs on the edge of a cliff. Plus the spaces are small, which means at 35’, our back will have to overhang the cliff’s edge by a good three to four feet. Poor Wally. I am no friggin’ help.

Amazingly, Wally assesses the situation and starts to maneuver into the spot. He makes it in with little help from his “better driver” of a wife. We put out the slides, level the coach, and set up some of our stuff. I call my sister and father. They still want to come out. They’ll take us to dinner. Fine, we say. At least that way we can get a drink and some food, since we haven’t stocked any provisions on our first trip.

LESSON #5 – Always have some emergency provision on hand incase you get to a place that’s in the middle of nowhere with no open stores due to LESSON #6 (see below).

LESSON #6 – The drive will always take longer than you think. Plan accordingly. After pulling some really long drives in the first couple of weeks of travel and almost killing each other at the end of each day, we decided that we won’t drive more than four or five hours at a stretch. Remember, you have to break down and set back up when you arrive at your new destination, so it always adds some more time to the trip in the end. Also, the longer you’ve stayed in a place, the more your stuff tends to spread out, so packing up can take longer than expected. Sometimes, if we’ve been at a place awhile, I’ll start packing up the night before, just to get a head start on the organization process. Traveling in an RV should not be stressful and based on time crunches. When we’re on the road, we really try to stick to these rules and have had a much better time of it. Plus we get to see more places along the way.

The next morning, we awoke to a glorious Malibu day. The sun was shining, the sky was a brilliant blue, and the Pacific Ocean sparkled before us. As we were having our coffee we even saw a pod of dolphins frolicking in the surf. And I…all I wanted to do was go back to bed. I was still so devastated by the major life change, by our harrowing first drive, that I couldn’t bring myself to face this glorious day. Pathetic, but true. Wally walked the beautiful Malibu beach across the street – alone.

After spending two nights in Malibu we started to head up toward San Francisco. We made it to the 5 North and decided on the way to spend the night at Harris Ranch. Harris Ranch, for those who do not know, is the halfway point between LA and San Francisco on Interstate 5. It’s an actual working ranch that sits in the middle of nowhere and has a hotel with a pool, and three different restaurants all serving steak fixed lots of different ways. We called to make sure that we could park the RV in the parking lot and headed north. Normally, in our sporty little Miata, we would arrive there in about three hours. This time it took us about four, but that was nowhere like the nearly nine hours it took us to get from Las Vegas to Malibu. Plus, there were no windy roads and we didn’t have to back in or hook up at Harris Ranch, we just parked the rig and headed for the restaurant. We had a fabulous steak dinner with wine, and finally, I started to relax about the whole affair.

Later, as we snuggled together under our fake mink blanket, I started to think that maybe this could be fun. This was the really the start of a new adventure, and not only that, I could drive this thing, no problem. The next morning we got up and I took the wheel, guiding us safely and soundly into San Francisco.

LESSON #7 – Hang in there. The white-knuckle rides ended a few weeks later. Having a sip of water while driving ceased to be a death-defying aerial act. Seeing the country in a different way than we were used to was turning out to be fun and exciting. Learning how to handle the rig and its systems was a challenge, not a chore. Pulling into a new town and finding a great restaurant, or watching a beautiful sunset from a different location every few days was fun. Plus, we had our home with us all the time.

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