About Us

As we started our journey into adulthood, we didn't have much money, which meant we were dead broke! Looking back, we realized that between us we owned a ratty old tent, a green Coleman camp stove, and a few folding camp chairs and tables. We couldn't do much back then, but we could go camping. And camping we did! We gathered some essential camping tips and would drive up to the Mogollon Rim @8,000' (Fire In The Sky), eventually packing 3 kids, 2 dogs, and all of our camping gear into our tiny little cars to embark on our adventures. Whether it was hot or cold, rain or shine, we made the most of our trips, often dreaming of the RV campgrounds we would one day visit as we explored the great outdoors.

We loved camping—but we were done sleeping on the ground and pretending that was part of the fun.    

And when it rained—which it always seemed to—we got the full experience…
a gentle waterfall from the tent ceiling, paired nicely with a slow-moving river across the floor.  

That was about the point we decided… maybe it was time for an upgrade.

We wanted a roof. Something that resembled a bed—even if it was basically an inch of questionable, 10-year-old foam sitting on particle board. And a table that didn’t fold mid-game.  The little things.

So, like just about everyone in the Phoenix area at the time, we made the trip to Little Dealer Little Prices and bought our first RV—a very well-used Coleman pop-up.

Five of us.  Three kids. Two dogs. All somehow packed inside.

Tina and I? We scored “privacy”… courtesy of a dinky little curtain.

It wasn’t fancy.  It wasn’t much.  But at the time? We thought we had arrived.
The Taj Mahal on wheels.

(“That there is an RV, Clark.” 😄)

Somehow, somewhere, sometime… we became adults.  

Work-life balance?  Yeah… that quietly turned into work-work balance.

12-hour days.  80-hour weeks.
And somehow… still never caught up.

Jobs turned into careers.  Careers turned into responsibility.  Weekends & evenings? Gone.
Replaced with homework, sports ball, teacher conferences, permission slips… and a calendar that stayed full no matter how hard we tried to get ahead of it.

The money was great.  Better than we ever imagined back in those pop-up days.

But our time?  Gone.

Somewhere along the way…we started trading vacation days for 401k’s.

And at the time, that felt like the right move.  Camping and traveling slowly faded into the background.
Replaced with deadlines, meetings, and “just one more thing” before calling it a night.

We told ourselves we didn’t have time to camp.  And eventually… we believed it.

The pop-up sat in the garage.  Trips we talked about never happened.

So we sold it to some good friends—telling ourselves it was the practical thing to do.

At the time, it felt like we were doing everything right.
Building careers. Providing for the family. Checking all the boxes.

And to be fair… we were.  But somewhere along the way…
we traded in what made us happy for what we thought we were supposed to do.

And we didn’t even realize it was happening.

The kids had grown—mostly.  One had graduated high school.  The other two weren’t far behind.

And then one day… that meeting.

“There’s been a restructure… your position has been eliminated.”  

Absolutely terrifying.  Until it wasn’t.

That fear didn’t last long—because right behind it came something we hadn’t felt in a long time…Freedom.

One of the first things we did?
We took a real family vacation—the first one in over a decade.  No schedules. No deadlines. No “just one more thing.”

When we got home, reality knocked again—but this time it felt different.

I started looking at the job market and realized something simple:
I was looking for a job when I found the last one… and the one before that.

The resume was solid.  Opportunities were there.

It felt like this might not be a setback…it might be a reset.

Once things settled, another thought crept back in—one we hadn’t given much attention to in years:

Camping.

Not the idea of it.  Not the memory of it.  The real thing.

So we did what any reasonable people would do…

We went hunting on Facebook Marketplace (maybe Craigslist—we honestly don’t remember), and before long, another Coleman pop-up was hitched behind the SUV.

PUP 2.0.

Smaller than the first one.  Tina and I had a bed.  The dogs had a bed.

The kids?  Well… they inherited the old tent and sleeping bags still sitting in the garage.

To be fair, they weren’t really “kids” anymore.  They were young adults now—and camping with Mom and Dad wasn’t exactly high on their priority list.

But for us?  It was.  And just like that…we were back.

It was time for a new tow vehicle.  The old Jeep Grand Cherokee had served us well—and honestly, it still does.  These days it lives a much easier life… grocery runs instead of mule pulling a trailer.

But over the years, we learned something:

Besides not knowing what we didn’t know…our biggest limiting factor in what RV we could pull was always the tow vehicle.

And we had outgrown it.  With life on track and RV life becoming… well… a real thing, it was time to step up.  No more SUV.  It was time for our first truck.  And not just any truck…

We went straight to the big boy truck.  And with the truck… came options.  Dangerous options.  Because once you can tow more… you will tow more.

Enter: the Arctic Fox 28F.

Thirty feet.  Twelve thousand pounds.  Roughly 250 square feet of living space.

A tiny apartment on wheels.

And compared to where we started?  This thing was an absolute beast.

Dual slides.  Reclining theater seats facing a 32-inch TV.

A real bedroom.  With a real queen bed.

At some point, we stopped asking “is this camping?”
…and started wondering if we’d accidentally moved into a house with wheels.

(“That there IS an RV, Clark.” 😄)

We even had a family theme song—
“Foxy, Foxy, Foxy”—sung in a cha-cha rhythm as we stumbled around the campground.

Strangers definitely looked at us funny.

We owned Foxy for five years.  The first few? Still camping.  But the last two?

That’s when things shifted.

About 30% of the year on the road.  
Longer trips. More time away. Less “getting away”… and more just living.

Cool in the summer.  Warm in the winter.  This wasn’t camping anymore.

This was RV life.  And honestly?

It was almost perfect.

(Almost… but we’ll get to that next.)