RV-ing

Ok, look, RV-ing is not camping.  "Roughing it" is sleeping on a rock with a wet sleeping bag at 10,000' in a sudden September snowstorm.  Or huddling up in a tent all night in Alaska with a shotgun in your hands in a wind storm with grizzly bears outside knocking down your "bear fence" and chewing holes in your raft.  There's nothing about flush toilets, satellite TV and a microwave that has anything to do with camping.  You know, even a car is pushing it but RV's are like driving around in a small house.  But certainly a sleeping bag and a tent are requirements of camping.  And if it's summer lose the tent. 

Have you ever driven along the freeway and seen a sign for Campers World?  Yeah, don't be fooled, it's an RV store.  What the fuck? 

So guess what jackass dude in the giant fucking motorhome I'm stuck behind crawling down the gravel road 6 inches wider than the fucking motorhome itself?  You're an idiot.  Get out of the way and get that fucking monstrosity of diesel, aluminum and glass back on pavement.  No, instead just drive it over to Montana and into one of the Anaconda settling ponds.  There's already enough weird machinery shit in those lakes no one will even notice and it's already a Superfund site so don't worry about all the fuel and toxic shit leaking out.  I also find it ironic and frightening that the worst drivers on the road (old people) are usually the ones piloting such a beast.  Rabble-B