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Are you sweating bullets checking that calendar? That’s right—camping season is wrapping up, and you’re absolutely not emotionally prepared for this breakup. When the leaves start falling and temperatures drop, RV owners everywhere enter a very special kind of mourning period. It’s real, it’s raw, and it’s weirdly relatable.
Here’s the thing: you’re not alone in this struggle. Every single RV enthusiast experiences the same five stages of grief when it’s time to park that rig for winter. From convincing yourself you can squeeze in “just one more trip” to finally accepting that your $30,000 vacation home is about to become a glorified driveway ornament, this emotional rollercoaster hits different.
Whether you’re a weekend warrior or a full-time dreamer, these stages will feel painfully familiar. You’ll laugh, you might cry (hopefully from laughter), and you’ll definitely nod your head in agreement. The end of camping season doesn’t just mean winterizing your RV—it means winterizing your soul.
So grab your comfort blanket (you know, the one you packed for that “one more trip”), and let’s walk through the emotional journey that awaits every RV owner when Old Man Winter comes knocking. https://www.youtube.com/embed/eq-Vqth3Zk4
1. Denial: “We Can DEFINITELY Squeeze In One More Trip!”
Welcome to stage one, where logic goes out the window and optimism reaches dangerous levels. You’re sitting there in late October, staring at a weather forecast showing 34°F, and somehow you’ve convinced yourself this is perfect camping weather. Spoiler alert: It’s not.
You’ll tell anyone who listens that you’re not cold, you’re “cozy.” Meanwhile, you’re packing every single blanket you’ve ever owned, and your RV starts looking like a Bed Bath & Beyond clearance sale exploded inside. Body warmth is free, right? That’s what you’ll tell your spouse before stealing all their blankets at 2 AM like some kind of hypothermia-avoiding ninja.
According to RVIA data, RV owners now use their rigs an average of 30 days per year—a 50% increase from just a few years ago. That means you’re more attached than ever, which makes denial hit even harder. You’ll park that rig in the driveway for “easy access” (translation: you’re refusing to winterize) and pretend like six months of frozen tundra won’t affect your plans.
The Reality Check You’re Avoiding
Let’s be honest: November marshmallows over a campfire basically become crème brûlée because your hands shake so violently from the cold. You’re not making memories—you’re making frostbite. But hey, at least you’re committed to the delusion!
2. Anger: Why Does EVERYTHING Cost So Much?!
Stage two hits harder than your propane bill. Suddenly, you’re furious at the universe, and especially at your wallet. Why in the world is propane more expensive than actual therapy? Doesn’t therapy also warm your soul? (Asking for a friend.)
The numbers don’t lie: heating an RV with propane can cost around $0.20 per foot per day, and that’s just an average. If you’re running your furnace through cold nights, you could be spending $100+ per month during winter. Meanwhile, campgrounds are still charging summer rates in October for the “privilege” of freezing your butt off while staring at a closed beach. Make it make sense!
And don’t even get started on that RV cover. You know, the one that never fits right? It doesn’t matter what size you bought—they all fit like skinny jeans after Thanksgiving dinner. You’ll be wrestling with that thing for hours while your smug neighbor who winterized back in August sips coffee and judges you silently from his porch.
| Common Anger Triggers | Why You’re Mad |
|---|---|
| Propane prices | Costs more than therapy sessions |
| Campground fees | Summer rates with zero summer perks |
| RV covers | Never fit, always frustrating |
| That smug neighbor | Already winterized like a responsible adult |
Your Neighbor’s Smirk Says It All
You know the type: He’s standing there looking all superior because he finished winterizing in August. Meanwhile, you’re out there at 6 PM struggling with a tarp in 40°F weather. Don’t worry—next year, you’ll be that guy. (You won’t, but it’s nice to dream.)
3. Bargaining: Making Deals With Anyone Who’ll Listen
This is where desperation reaches peak levels. You’re negotiating with yourself, your spouse, maybe even with God. “If I buy heated socks, we can camp till Christmas, right?” Wrong. But that won’t stop you from trying.
You’ll start having wild conversations about moving the RV to Florida (it’s only 1,800 miles—how bad could it be?). You’ll bargain with your spouse: “If we can camp through October, I’ll let your mom sleep in the house this Thanksgiving instead of the RV.” That’s how you know you’ve officially lost the plot.
Then you’ll watch those snowbirds driving south in their $200,000 rigs and think, “One day… one day I’ll be worrying about pipe insulation in Arizona instead of here.” The RV industry saw over 11.2 million RV-owning households as of recent data, and you can bet a solid chunk of them are snowbirds living your dream life.
Heated Socks Won’t Save You
Newsflash: No amount of heated socks, propane heaters, or wishful thinking will turn late fall into prime camping season. But you’ll try anyway because bargaining is cheaper than acceptance. Financially, at least—emotionally is a different story.
4. Depression: Camping in Your Driveway Like It’s Vacation
Now we’ve reached the sad part. Depression sets in when you find yourself sitting inside your RV in the driveway with the slides out, pretending you’re on vacation. When neighbors walk by and whisper, “Oh look, the Jonathans are camping in front of their garage again,” you know you’ve hit rock bottom.
Some of you will start making s’mores on your kitchen stovetop and light a candle, calling it a “campfire.” You’ll scroll through RV forums at 3 AM reading trip reports from last summer. Then nostalgia gets weird—you’ll actually start missing mosquitoes. You’ll call friends asking if they remember slapping their leg 19 times while trying to eat a hot dog. Good times, right? Right?!
With the median RV usage at 30 days per year, that means 335 days of not camping. That’s a lot of time to feel sad about your parked RV. Driving past campgrounds becomes torture—it’s like running into your ex with someone new. It hurts every single time.
Stovetop S’mores Hit Different
Let’s call it what it is: making s’mores indoors while pretending it’s camping is the RV equivalent of a cry for help. But at least you’re consistent with your coping mechanisms. Points for creativity, even if it’s deeply concerning.
5. Acceptance: Sleep Well, Old Friend… See You in April
Finally, you’ve made it to stage five. You fold up those camping chairs and, with them, your entire soul. You put that RV cover on (after an hour-long wrestling match) and whisper, “Sleep well, old friend. We’ll see you in April.”
Now you try embracing other hobbies, like cleaning the garage. That lasts about five minutes before you’re back online impulse-buying gear you’ll never use next year. Do you really need a solar-powered bug zapper shaped like a flamingo? Absolutely not. Will you buy it anyway? You bet.
But here’s the beautiful part: you find peace. Deep down, you know camping doesn’t really end—it just goes into hibernation. Right now, you’re organizing gear like you’re building a bunker. You’ve got stacks of blankets, propane heaters, an extra tank, heated socks… Do you know where everything is? No. But it looks like you know what you’re doing, and that’s half the battle.
The Silver Lining
Here’s the truth: The five stages of RV season ending are real, but so is the comeback. You’ll be back, and somehow you’ll love camping even more next year. Until the first snowflake flies, you’ll be out there shivering, sipping coffee, and pretending your propane tanks are your best friends. Because that’s what campers do. We endure, we complain, and we massively overpack.
The Bottom Line: You’ll Survive This
The end of camping season feels like a personal attack, but you’re tougher than you think. Every RV owner goes through these five stages—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance—and lives to camp another day.
So park that rig, cover it up, and start planning next year’s adventures. Spring will be here before you know it, and when it arrives, you’ll be the first one hitched up and heading to the nearest campground. Until then, keep those dreams alive, even if your RV is hibernating.
SOURCES:
- RVIA – Go RVing RV Owner Demographic Profile
- Reddit – How Much Are You Spending on Propane
- USA Camping Company – Statistics That Show the Popularity of RV’ing
- American Family Insurance – How to Winterize Your RV
- RV Park IQ – Market Size of the U.S. RV Park & Campground Industry
- The Camping Loop – Top 5 Grieving Stages of RV Season Ending (YouTube)
- U.S. Energy Information Administration – Propane Prices Winter Trends
