Our very first RV was a gently-used Class A Winnebago, and we named her Stella. My memories of pretty Stella are very fond, as she became our home at many tailgates, woodland-themed birthday parties, and unforgettable excursions across the southeast. As a person who loves to cook (even more so on vacation), Stella was a camping chef’s delight. She proudly boasted long, sweeping countertops, full-sized appliances, and more than enough cabinets to hold every conceivable type of crockpot, rice steamer, and Mickey Waffle Maker imaginable. The king-sized bed provided an extraordinary night’s sleep for Captain Bacon and I. This bed was as comfortable as any I have ever slept in, and I loved how nearly all light could be blocked at night.

But eventually, we realized she wasn’t right for us or our needs or our desire to feel safe with our family on the road. We sold her for almost as much as we paid for her, and purchased the near total-opposite – a hybrid travel trailer. This downgrade of sorts has been a much better fit, and I almost love it. What challenges us with the hybrid (named Harvey the RV) is the sparseness of storage space and the lack of hard-shell protection in some of the fold-out sleeping spaces.

Looking for Love in All the Wrong Places

So, off to the RV shows we went in January. Captain Bacon had his eye on a 2020 Thor Aria – a luxury model with Vegas showgirl looks and a special show price of only $229,000. As he talked to the sales person for more than an hour, my anxiety grew. I knew that part of the appeal had to do with that man ego show-off factor. My RV is bigger than your RV.

For a week after the show, he continued to talk about the Aria. Planning where we would go. Whether or not he would finance part of it (yuck), or sell something to pay for it. He had clearly forgotten about the negatives of our prior Class A experiences, sort of like he forgot when we planned that we would never get another basset hound (and we did). Finally, an opening came when I knew that the infatuation period was fading, and I saw a path for rational conversation. We discussed, researched, and took notes on the pros and cons of a Class A vs. a little larger travel trailer. In the end, he came to that what-the-hell-was-I-thinking moment.

There are at least seven reasons why we will never again own a Class A motorhome, and not surprisingly, the two most serious ones have to do with safety.

1. They crumble in accidents

Like sand castles on the beach, motorhomes wither in the face of physical confrontation. You might think that because they are big and tall that they are safer. And in certain kinds of accidents, being heavy guy will be an advantage. Nevertheless, motorhomes are top heavy, catch the wind easily, and have a tendency to topple when faced with peril. And unlike a school bus, walls are lightweight, made of plywood sticks, very thin aluminum or fiberglass that can fall completely apart in an accident.

Just this week, a video was released showing crash testing of motorhomes in Sweeden. The results are absolutely terrifying and show not only the discombobulation of the motorhome, but two other problems. One is that there is little protection between the driver and the crash object in a motorhome as the front does not have the large hood and engine that you would find in your car, pickup truck, or even a Class C RV.

Another serious issue in the design are flying objects. All of those cabinets, appliances and chairs are going to become missiles in the event of an accident. They have to go somewhere (according to Newton), and that somewhere has a more than small likelihood of being your head

Obviously, the driver plays a big role in safety, and I think RV drivers as a whole probably go slower and with more caution. But as I’ve always told my kids, it’s the other people you need to worry about.

2.lassiez faire regulations

What makes number one even worse is the lack of regulation on motorhome construction and crashworthiness. Unlike cars and trucks, motorhomes are not subjected to rigorous federal standards.

And in 2016, Manufacturers Alliance Child Passenger Safety (MACPS) went so far as to strongly discourage children from riding in Class-A motorhomes at all, noting that the seatbelts in the rear passenger areas do not meet standards, and are attached to wooden structures that may not hold up in an accident.  Their recommendation for a safer option is a travel trailer, where passengers ride in the car or truck that is towing the RV.

3. Oh the places you won’t go

For us, the entire purpose of an RV is to travel, and this includes state parks and out-of-the-way places. I understand that some people are just traveling highways from one Class A resort to another, but I want to be able to navigate the winding curves of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Another advantage is the availability of more campsites at places like Disney’s Fort Wilderness. A great many simply don’t have long enough pads for a large motorhome. (Related: Fort Wilderness Site and Loop Details)

4. Mo Money Mo Problems

Let’s just say that you have the means to pay cash (or take on little debt) for a Class A motorhome. (If you don’t, taking a big loan for one, in my opinion, is one of the worst financial decisions you could make). Once you have taken possession of Big Bertha, the spending has just begun. For example, now you are maintaining not only an RV, but automotive components as well. Repairs, if you find a repairman find one willing to work on a Class A motorhome, will be much more expensive than regular cars or even other classes of RVs due to the location of the engine and weight of the vehicle.

5. all living and no sleeping

We discovered early on that even some of the smaller travel trailers have a higher sleeping capacity than do the largest motorhomes. Nowadays, most new motorhomes have added an overcab sleeping area, providing sleep for 6-8. Still, a large travel trailer or bunkhouse can sleep many more, and a mid-sized one will typically sleep 8-10. Certainly, the motorhome may have a larger, swankier living area, but we prefer sitting outside our RV to eat and watch movies.

6. You’ll Need a Toad

Unless you want to refrain from shopping, sightseeing, or running errands, you’ll need some sort of arrangement beyond your motorhome. This usually involves an investment in another small vehicle that you will tow behind the Class A. Now, I do have some very fond memories of my uncle having a Volkswagen Thing as his Toad vehicle in the 1970s. I’m not sure there’s anything made today that would equal that cool factor.

7. there’s sexier options if you have the money

Back to Captain Bacon. He was a teenager when his family suddenly ran into an unexpected bit of financial luck. This resulted in him being able to buy a brand new Trans-Am. Suddenly, he went from regular high school guy to the one that every girl wanted to go out with. So, I think that this idea of a luxury or cool vehicle as tied to the attractiveness of a man stays with him somewhere deep in his heart.  No doubt the Prevost says “wealthy CEO grandpa.” But an Airstream (or better yet the Bowlus Road Chief) says “sultry adventure man with taste.” If you are determined to turn heads, the Road Chief travel trailer starts around $165,000.

The caveat to my insistence to never again have another Class A is based on the circumstances of today. Perhaps a whole new breed of Class As with strong construction, a lower center of gravity, regulatory oversight, and protective seating for all passengers will emerge in the future. Or maybe Captain Bacon will dangerously head off to an RV show by himself. But for now, my plans are to continue with travel trailers, and sometimes pursuing the option of renting an RV set up on site in Fort Wilderness. I have yet to try a rental, but I am intrigued with the option of having a larger space without towing for six or seven hours down I-75.

Related: (Quiz) Survival 101 for the Ordinary Camper/RVer: Test Your Knowledge