Camping. Psh. It’s so overrated. Why would anyone want to go hang out with all those mosquitos? Those other people? Roasting hot dogs on a stick is so third grade. And Airstreams? Why would anyone bother?
Here are 5 reasons to never own an Airstream.
You hate spending time in the great outdoors.
Nature is nauseating. Listening to the birds is for the birds, amirite?
Gazing at the stars is lame.
Seriously. Who in their right minds just sits there and looks up at the sky? Why are they wasting their time?
You enjoy the pitter-patter of rain on your head while you sleep.
Ok, so you’ve grown up a little. Matured. You like camping now. You’re one of those “star gazers” and “bird watchers.” But you wouldn’t be caught dead stepping inside a Twinkie. You’re too good for that. Instead, you own a tent.
You lay your sweet little head down at night and you hear the soft tapping of rain on the fabric you so carefully sprayed with rain guard. You drift gently off to sleep, dreaming of small puppies, licking your face. The puppies turn into saint bernards. As you awaken, you realize you’re drenched. It’s raining in the tent. You’ve always heard that rainwater is good for your hair. Sweet! Multitasking is awesome.
Quality is overrated.
You’re a little older now. Sleeping on the ground was fun, but now you’re refined. You’re a new RV owner. Congratulations.
You spent way too much money on this sucker, but it has slide outs! It has fun swooshy patterns on it’s boxy exterior!
You venture out on your inaugural trip. You triple check the hitch and test the trailer lights. You start off, roll down the windows, and turn up the tunes.
A mile down the road you hear a roaring squeal and see sparks flying in your rearview mirror. What a show! Your very own fireworks. You pull over and find that the stairs have fallen from their protective cubby. Thankfully you thought ahead and you hold them up with a bungee cord.
The rest of your trip goes great. Slide outs are awesome. It’s so roomy! It’s so glorious!
Unfortunately, it’s time to pack up and head home after a wonderful vacation.
There’s only one problem. The slide outs won’t go back into the trailer, no matter what.
You enjoy donating your possessions to the local landfill.
You’ve owned your RV for a few years. The stairs and slide out failure were only the beginning of a long line of failures. You’re losing hope in this lifestyle. Maybe you should’ve stuck with the tent. You try to sell the RV for an entire year, but you can’t even give it away at this point.
You decide to give the tent one last go. You set up camp. Your back is going to hate you in the morning. You’re grumbling to yourself over the campfire about what poor decisions you’ve made and how you’ll never go camping again, when something suddenly catches your eye. A shiny beacon of light, off in the distance. You realize it’s an Airstream. Aerodynamics schmerodynamics, you mumble.
Just as you’re about to “enjoy” your badly charred hot dog, you hear a sweet sounding voice. “We have a whole spread of food at our site and you look lonely. Wanna join us?” It’s the Airstream guy. You look down at your blackened ‘dog and take them up on their offer.
You step aboard, finally understanding what all the fuss was about. You have a wonderful night. You drink a few too many IPAs and tell your new friends that you’ll be buying an Airstream, thanks to them.
That night, you sleep soundly in your tent, knowing that soon, so soon, you’ll be an Airstream owner.