By Chuck Woodbury
Gail and I drove from Tyler to Kerrville, Texas, yesterday along mostly secondary highways. We passed through Waco on the way — the big city along the route.
We saw at least 15 RV parks, all right along the road, the cheapest property. I wasn’t counting, but I’d guess a half dozen were nice, most fairly new. But the others were dumps, old places, populated with what appeared to be permanent residents. They were junky, with old, beat-up trailers and motorhomes, most with old cars and trucks out front. Weeds grew everywhere. Kids’ toys, tricycles were out front, and junk all around. Blue tarps covered or partially covered dozens of RVs. I don’t know about you, but I would not want to stay at any of those places. Go ahead, call me a snob.
When you start talking about the shortage of RV parks in America able to handle the half-million RVs being built every year, these parks are counted. But, really, most RVers would not want to stay. The residents, I suspect, are there because they need to be, living on Social Security or welfare. They’re one step away from homelessness. For them, of course, that “one step away” is a giant one, as a roof over one’s head, with a bathroom and bed is far better than sleeping on the street. The word “recreation” simply does not have a place in describing how they live.
When the RV industry talks about the number of RV parks in America, these should not be included. They’re RV ghettos.