Yahoo Autos Happier Camper: A Road Trip Only Falls Apart If You Let It
On the fourth day of our trip, moments after crossing the Utah-Wyoming border, all five of the wheel studs on the right axle of our 17-foot-long camper sheared off completely. "Oh, what the heck is that?" my girlfriend Mallory said as she watched the camper's wheel skip alongside our 2020 Jeep Gladiator Sport at 60 mph before hopping a barbed-wire fence and prancing through a field of prairie grass like a black doe.
We scraped to a stop on the shoulder of the two-lane highway, and I slowly walked along the fresh gash in the pavement, searching for a clue about what had happened. I made it back to the sign that had just welcomed us to Wyoming, now beckoning us back to Utah, and there I found a single lug nut with a snapped stud stuck in its threads. I showed it to Mallory, and she showed me the gash on her arm she got from the barbed wire when she collected the runaway tire. Then she opened the cooler, cracked a beer, and kissed me.
If plans tend to fall apart, stop making them. There was a time when I enjoyed planning and especially enjoyed planning road trips, but eventually I accepted that the open road cares not for day-to-day agendas, premeditated stops, or expectations of any sort. At some point on every trip everything goes awry, which is why at the beginning of our two-week, 5000-mile road trip through the West, I turned to Mallory and asked, "Where to first?"
Not long after COVID-19 reached the United States, Mallory was exposed to the virus during a nursing shift at a local hospital, and for 14 days we only imagined the sun on our skin as we quarantined in our living room and started puzzles that remain unfinished. A few days into our quarantine, the airline called to say it canceled her much-anticipated, three-week summer vacation to Africa. That's when Mallory made it clear to me that she still needed a summer adventure, virus be damned.
I always dreamed of going on a long trip with a tow-behind camper. Having a home wherever we parked seemed most sensible during a pandemic, so I reached out to Happier Camper, a Los Angeles-based company that builds fiberglass travel trailers. I wasn't alone in thinking a camper was the way to go. According to the RV Industry Association's monthly survey of manufacturers, recreational vehicle shipments in July were up 53.5 percent over July 2019. That was led by traditional travel trailers. Shipments of those, totaling 39,160 units, were up 56.6 percent over last year.
Happier Camper launched five years ago with the adorable 13-foot HC1, which weighs about 1500 pounds, fully loaded. Recently, the company released its 2500-pound Traveler. The one we borrowed cost $49,950 and came fully equipped with a sink/shower with bamboo floors, a dry-flush toilet, a dual-burner propane kitchenette, air conditioning, a water heater, a mini fridge, a crank-operated awning, and a roof-mounted solar power system.
