My RV journey didn’t start the way most people imagine.
We had just bought our first RV. It was a used Class C we found through a Craigslist ad, sold by a contractor who had been paid for a job with it and knew very little about RVs.
We were young, excited, optimistic, and very green. We planned to have it inspected, but instead decided to take it out for a short maiden voyage first.
No kids.
Just a quick test run…
We packed up and headed to Carpinteria State Beach campground.
Beautiful spot just steps away from the sand.
Got set up. Took a walk down to the beach.
Standing there looking out at the ocean, it felt like a new door had opened.
The RV represented freedom…
To travel comfortably, experience beautiful places, and move through the world with more flexibility. Just as much, it hinted at the people we’d meet along the way. Campground conversations, shared advice, familiar faces showing up again miles later. A sense that this wasn’t just about places, but about becoming part of something bigger.
After the walk, we headed back to the RV to cook dinner.
The plan was to grill up some fish over the stove. Simple. Pair it with some roasted potatoes and vegetables. We opened a bottle of wine. This couldn’t get any better!
I turned the burner to ignite the stove.
Nothing happened.
I thought, “ok, I guess we’re replacing the ignitor.”
But I could definitely smell the propane so I figured I’d just get it lit with a regular lighter…
The next thing I remember, I was completely surrounded by fire.
The intense flames flashed through the RV in an instant, blowing out the front cab window and the rear emergency exit… and then they were gone.
I remember standing there in shock. Then walking out of the RV, not fully understanding what had just happened.
Only later did we learn there had been a propane leak.
I spent nearly two weeks in the hospital. I had second- and third-degree burns on my legs, and the pain was intense once the shock wore off and during the several weeks of treatment that followed. What stays with me most isn’t the medical side of it. It’s my kids, still young at the time, standing next to my hospital bed on Father’s Day, trying to make sense of why their dad was there.
Looking back, there were a lot of things we didn’t know then. We didn’t even know propane detectors were a thing. That’s how new we were. We were excited about the idea of RV life, but didn’t yet understand the systems that made it possible… or the risks of assuming everything was fine without slowing down and checking.
It would’ve been easy to walk away from RVing after that. And for a while, people assumed I would.
But something unexpected happened instead.
That experience didn’t push me away from RV life. It made me more intentional about it. Less casual about assumptions. More curious about how systems actually behave. More aware of how quickly things can change when you don’t fully understand what you’re relying on.
Not long after, we bought our first Class A. We used it for years. Then another. Then another. RV life didn’t disappear from the picture. It became part of it.
Looking back, that moment didn’t define my RV journey. It clarified it.
Setbacks happen. Sometimes they’re inconvenient. Sometimes they’re serious. But they don’t automatically disqualify you from the life you’re building. They just force you to decide whether you’re done, or whether you’re going to keep going with a little more awareness than before.
That idea has followed me ever since.
That whole experience almost feels unreal when I think about it today. The intensity of it. The pain. How fast everything changed. But… it could have been far worse. Propane is a low-lying gas, and the burns I suffered were from the knees down. Even now, I can’t finish the thought of what that day might have looked like if my kids had been inside the RV with us.
RV freedom isn’t about pretending things won’t go wrong. It’s about slowing down, learning as you go, and not letting one moment convince you the whole path was a mistake.
