The Maiden Voyage: Our First Trip and What Went Wrong

The Maiden Voyage: Our First Trip and What Went Wrong

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We’d done the five-day shakedown run up to Georgia and South Carolina, but this was the real thing: the “balls to the wall” maiden voyage. We had a plan: depart mid-May 2024, hit roughly 17 states in 38 days, stack memories, and finally live the road life we’d been chasing since 2023.

 

On May 15, we rolled out: two adults, three kids, and a 90-pound fur missile stuffed into a 2017, 32' Class A (Ford V10), Jeep in tow on a 22-foot car hauler. We’d done what upgrades we could afford, felt “ready enough,” and pointed the nose north.

 

Days 1–5: Heat, Buc-ee’s, and a Dead Generator

 

Late start. I-95 toward Jacksonville. Buc-ee’s stop because… traditions (and brisket). We crashed at a Flying J’s; tomorrow would be a long haul.

 

Then the Florida heat hit. The ceiling A/C couldn’t keep up while driving, so the generator had to carry us. It didn’t. Mid-I-10, the Onan quit due to fuel pump failure after ~4 hours of runtime. That’s the kind of problem that can end a trip with kids onboard.

 

We pivoted. Booked Camp Margaritaville Auburndale (near Tampa), ordered a new fuel pump for Monday, and let the kids cool off while I diagnosed. Parts day: solo Jeep run to Tampa’s Cummins Onan—top-tier crew, in/out fast. Back at the site, I wrenched in the sun: fuel pump, filter, line, carb, and oil change. She fired right up. Sweet relief.

 

We finally left Auburndale on Day 5, shot for Mississippi, and grabbed sleep at a Love’s around 3 a.m.

 

Days 6–8: Hattiesburg KOA and the Good Kind of Surprise

 

Booked two nights at the Hattiesburg KOA, and it blew our expectations away. Shaded, spotless, family-run vibes. Pool time, s’mores, and conversations with folks staying long-term for work. Downtown Hattiesburg also surprised me: rail history, great burgers, and a quirky outdoor “mouse museum” the kids loved.

 

Sleep, coffee, “Bang” energy, and miles. We pushed toward Arkansas, and then the generator acted up again. Time for an honest shop.

 

Days 9–11: The Fix in Glenpool, OK (and Why Good People Matter)

 

We beelined to Wade’s RV in Glenpool, Oklahoma, referred by a friend whose family are straight shooters. Wade’s RV got us in with no appointment, diagnosed the issue, and walked me through preventive tips so I could handle the next hiccup myself. The people were the difference. (I’d buy my next rig from them. Period.)

From there: farmland views across Oklahoma to Kansas City, over into Missouri, and then I-80 into Nebraska to see family.

 

Days 12–22: Middle of Nowhere, Right Where We Needed to Be

 

No frills near our family hub, but the fairgrounds offered full-hookup sites year-round; quiet, peaceful, perfect. We grilled, told stories, and soaked up two weeks of slow living. We treated ourselves to a couple of hotel days for pool time. Most importantly, my wife and kids spent precious time with her grandmother. She passed later that year. That time together was worth more than any bucket-list stop.

 

Days 23–26: Wyoming Sticker, Colorado Memories, Arizona Heatwave

 

We snagged Wyoming for the state-sticker mission, then went down to Colorado (old stomping grounds). Booked a Love’s RV Stop in Walsenburg, surprisingly great for quick, safe sleep.

Next, Mesa/PHX KOA. We set up, hit the pool, and… the A/C barely dented the heat.

 

Forecast: 118–120°F. I moved the family to a Hilton for a few days while I packed up and ended the KOA stay. No refund, fair enough. We parked the rig lengthwise at the hotel (they were awesome about it), dropped the Jeep, and let the kids have the kind of pool days they’ll still talk about at Thanksgiving.

 

Days 31–36: Desert Lines, Gulf Air, and Jellystone Magic

 

We tagged California (Blythe), arced back through Arizona, then Texas. Outside Fort Stockton, we found a quiet gravel lot next to a gas station for the night. Sunrise, eggs and chorizo on the griddle, and coffee, one of those tiny moments that sticks.

 

Destination: Jellystone Park, Waller, TX. Two nights for the kids, and it delivered: slides, a mini water park, a staff that actually watches the pools, and neighbors worth talking to. Highly recommended for families.

 

Next stop: Camp Margaritaville Breaux Bridge, LA, is massive, clean, and easy even with a long rig. We cabana-splurged for a 10-hour pool day. I took my youngest to build her own bear; her grin made the detour worth it.

 

Days 36–38: The Last Push

 

We aimed for Florida, played fuel-and-dog-walk hopscotch through Mobile and Pensacola, and grabbed a night at Buc-ee’s. On the Florida Turnpike, I grabbed a three-hour nap at a rest area, then finished the run home.

 

We rolled in. Tired, sun-kissed, and grateful.

 

What the Trip Taught Me (So You Don’t Learn It the Hard Way)

 

  • Have a parts kit. Oil, filters (cabin/water/generator/engine), a spare Onan fuel pump and carb, belts, fuses, clamps, hoses, sealant, and a decent tool roll.
  • Practice roadside maintenance. If you’ve never pulled a generator shroud or replaced a filter, don’t learn at 110°F on an I-10 shoulder. Practice at home.
  • Mind the heat. Roof A/C while parked is not the same as keeping cool while driving. Know your generator’s health, your rig’s airflow, and your family’s limits.
  • Pivot fast, without guilt. If a campground isn’t workable (heat, safety, vibe), move your family to a hotel. You’re not failing RV life; you’re protecting it.
  • Trust people, not brands. A few family-owned places saved this trip. Corporate service often didn’t.
  • Keep the mission. We slapped state stickers on the rig at 11:45 p.m. because that was our thing. Make your own rituals; they carry you through the breakdowns.

 

Why It Was Still the Best Trip of My Life

 

Because the point wasn’t perfect logistics. It was being together—front-seat conversations with my kids on empty highways, my wife’s laugh echoing at the pool, quiet mornings with coffee and the dog at my feet, and time with family we can never replace.

 

If you get the chance to do something like this, do it. Rent an RV if you need to. Be spontaneous. Break the plan. The road will give you something back.

 

Wandering, learning, and telling it like it is.

The Wandering Nomad

 

 

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