The Inner Monologue

Let’s talk about the great RV lie—the one where manufacturers proudly declare that their 24-foot rolling shoebox can comfortably accommodate 12 people. Twelve. A full dozen. Enough to field a baseball team with a designated hitter and a disgruntled benchwarmer.

Now, I don’t know about you, but the last time I checked, my social circle doesn’t include a Lord of the Flies cast of stranded children, nor do I have any interest in recreating a college dorm floor sleepover—complete with questionable smells and someone inevitably rolling off the “convertible dinette bed” at 3 AM.

The Math (Or Lack Thereof)

Let’s break this down: A 26-foot RV claims to sleep 12. That’s roughly 2.16 feet of sleeping space per person—assuming you stack them like cordwood. And sure, maybe the marketing team counts the following as “sleeping spaces”:

• The actual bed (2 people, if you like each other)
• The dinette that folds into a “bed” (if you enjoy sleeping on what feels like a cafeteria table)
• The couch that turns into a “bed” (if you consider a slab of plywood with upholstery a bed)
• The loft above the cab (if you enjoy sleeping in a coffin with less headroom)
• The floor (if you’re into that sort of thing)
• The roof (if you bring bungee cords and a death wish)

By this logic, my Honda Civic could sleep six—two in the seats, two in the trunk, one on the roof rack, and one in the glove compartment if they’re really committed.

Who Are These People?

RV companies seem to be under the impression that their customers are either:

1. Polygamist cult leaders with an extensive family and a desperate need to take everyone glamping.
2. Clowns. Literal clowns. Because only a clown car could justify this level of sleeping density.
3. People who enjoy personal space violations more than they enjoy functioning knees.

Most of us just want a place to sleep two people comfortably, store some snacks, and maybe not have to perform origami with our furniture every night just to avoid sleeping in the driver’s seat.

The Real Reason

It’s marketing. Pure, unfiltered, “if we say it sleeps 12, maybe someone will believe it” nonsense. Because if you slap a big “SLEEPS 12” on the side, some poor soul might think, “Wow, this is spacious!” instead of “Wow, this is how sardines must feel.”

A Modest Proposal

Dear RV manufacturers:

• Make a good couch.
• Make a decent table.
• Give us storage that doesn’t require a Tetris world champion to access.
• And for the love of all that is holy, stop pretending we’re traveling with the cast of Cheaper By the Dozen.

Most of us just want a weekend escape, not a slumber party with strangers we’ve never met (and frankly, don’t want to).

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go fold my dinette into a “queen-sized bed” (read: slightly wider than a yoga mat) and question all of my life choices.

Happy camping. Or, more accurately, happy cramping. 🚐💤