RVs Were Meant For Vacations, Now They’re America’s Last Refuge From Skyrocketing Housing Costs

Instagram and TikTok videos make living in an RV full time look pretty sweet. Going where you want, when you want, waking up to sunsets that are just begging to be snapped and posted, and every other camper seemingly a hot twenty-something girl who can’t wait to strip down to a bikini and take a swim in the lake. Mortgage, I am so over you.

But behind that glossy vision is a very different side to van-life in the US. One where thousands of people are forced to cram their worldly goods into an RV and hit the road, not out of choice and a lust for adventure, but out of financial necessity.

Related: This Country’s Love Affair With Mobile Homes Is Exploding

Entire families are priced out of conventional housing due to the soaring cost of rent and other living expenses and see a recreational vehicle as the only way to keep a roof over their heads. That’s the side of van-life social media rarely tells you about.

A Growing Reality

There are currently around 486,000 people living full-time in RVs in the US, according to survey data from the RV Industry Association reported by NBC News. If that number comes as a shock, prepare for another one, because it’s doubled since 2021, and many of those people are either old or or have young children. They’re not rich retirees or young, free and tech-savvy social media influencers, but people struggling to get by on meager incomes.

Moving into a van should theoretically save money, but some of these involuntary van lifers told NBC News that’s not always the case. Although federal campsites are free, you can only stay for 14 nights at a time and they don’t come with water or electric. Commercial pitches that do have those facilities might cost as much as $45 per night.

Counting The Costs

On top of that you have to budget for repairs because vans, like cars, break down and wear out. And most RVs are not high-end $1 million motorhomes and are not meant to be used day-in, day-out. Some used ones are only fit for scrap before the owners have even finished paying the loans they took out to buy them.

Hope And Hardship

Take 64-year-old Kat Tucker, who tried to stabilize her finances by house-sitting for a relative. When she reentered the rental market, prices had raced ahead, putting apartments out of reach even on her $58,000 annual income from disability and Social Security. So last year she borrowed $22,500 for a used RV, stretched over seven years to keep the monthly hit at $350. What weighs on her now is the fear that the camper may not last even five.

“It can be a great lifestyle, but it can also be yet another trap for poor people who just keep getting poorer,” Tucker told the news station. “I’m never going to be able to afford decent housing even though I have a steady income,” Tucker said. “That’s what’s really frustrating.”

The 2020 movie Nomadland gives some insight into the lives of older Americans living on the road, and even stars several real-life nomads alongside Frances McDormand. It shows us the sense of community traveling groups say they love about RV life, but it’s tough to watch at times, seeing older people with failing health struggle, wondering how they’re going to cope five or 10 years down the line.

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