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SANIBEL ISLAND, Fla. — “Diane and I camped in tents when we got married,’’ said Marvin Rosenberg, explaining how he and his wife came to buy an RV. Their trajectory from pitched poles to home on wheels interested me because I was embarking on my first off-ground camping trip. The Rosenbergs were full of advice.
“Ask me about sway bars and hooking up a sewer hose with a mask and rubber gloves,’’ said Marvin. (I didn’t.)
“There’s everything from fly-in RV resorts to overnighting in Wal-Mart parking lots. People will tell you what’s wonderful,’’ said his wife, Diane, offering a list of her favorite campgrounds.
RV travel came of age with the automobile and the US highway system after World War II, said the Rosenbergs, who know because they belong to the Wally Byam Club of Airstream owners. Byam, who grew up summering in a covered wagon in the Oregon mountains herding sheep, created the aluminum Airstream travel trailer in 1936 and popularized it by leading caravans across all of North America and beyond. “Go see what’s over the next hill, and the one after that,’’ Byam urged.
So with a truck stuffed to the max and a teardrop in tow — teardrops are pint-sized campers shaped like a ham tin — my friend Sterling Mulbry and I joined the RV nation of motorhomes and travel trailers rolling into state parks and relatives’ driveways with their jet skis, all-terrain vehicles, and children.
From northeast Florida, the way through the state’s interior passes cow towns and cattle ranches. Sterling watched for promising taquerias and rare caracaras (falcon-like birds) while I drove. As we neared the densely built Gulf Coast, the treeless RV parks packed tight as crayon boxes filled us with unease.
That was until we found Periwinkle Park and Campground on Sanibel Island: sleepy sand streets, no concrete pads, and spaces where a camper can spread a little in the cane palms’ filigreed shade. Run by three generations of Muenches, the park is remarkable for its aviary of macaws, parrots, and swans, not to mention ring-tailed lemurs, which draw visitors from across Sanibel. “Slow down!’’ a bird named Lola called out, warning us to obey the park’s 7 miles per hour speed limit, while another, Terri, imitated a cellphone.
Walter Martilla from Vineland, Ontario, was the first to come ’round and inspect our rig. “You live in this?’’ he said with a smile.
RVs are as diverse as their owners, who routinely check everybody’s out. In the stratosphere are dream machines like Terra Wind, an amphibious model by the South Carolina makers of Boston’s Super Ducks that was so radical no one bought one (“The concept didn’t fly,’’ a corporate spokesman said). There are luxury and off-road vehicles costing $225,000 to $3 million, like EarthRoamer, whose founder, Bill Swails, has traveled in his company’s expedition RV from the Arctic Circle to Costa Rica on solar power and biodiesel fuel. At the other end, production teardrops start at about $8,000, according to Chris Baum of Little Guy Worldwide. Baum describes his teardrop customers as “against-the-grain campers and young couples who want to tiptoe into RVing.’’ (The website www.gorving.comdescribes everything in between.)
Patricia Borns Is the writer responsible for this article .
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