Learning to Travel at the Speed of Age

There is something I've been reluctant to say publicly for a long time, not because it's a secret. Anyone who follows us can do the math. And not because I'm ashamed of it. Rather, because saying it out loud somehow makes it real.

What's my age?

I'm 80 years old. There. I said it.

To be honest, even writing those words makes me a little uncomfortable. For years, I've worried about how people would react if I started talking openly about my age. We work in a world full of energetic younger RV influencers. They're hiking mountains, biking rugged trails, climbing ladders onto their roofs, and making everything look effortless. I have occasionally wondered if admitting my age would somehow change how people see me.

Would they think I'm too old to be relevant? Would they assume our RV travels are winding down? Would they stop listening? Those thoughts have crossed my mind.

The funny thing is that most days I don't feel 80.

My hair isn't gray, at least not completely. I don't need reading glasses. I'm active. I still work every day. I still get excited about planning trips. I still love exploring new places, discovering new campgrounds, and waking up in a different part of the country wondering what adventure awaits.

In fact, what may surprise some people is that I don't consider myself retired. I've never really understood retirement, at least not for me.

Every morning I wake up excited about the day ahead. I want to write. I want to report. I want to tell stories. I want to shoot videos. I want to create new travel guides and books. Lately, I've become fascinated with AI and all the ways it can help us build tools and apps that make RV travel easier and more enjoyable.

One of my biggest frustrations these days is that there are more things I want to do than I have time to accomplish. I don't wake up wondering how to fill my day. I wake up wondering which of a dozen ideas I should tackle first.

Perhaps that's another reason admitting I'm 80 feels a little uncomfortable. The number doesn't seem to match the way I think about life. I'm still making plans. Still learning. Still curious. Still excited about what comes next.

But lately my body has been trying to have a conversation with me.

Last January, during one of those classic Michigan winter days when a thin layer of ice can turn a driveway into a skating rink, I slipped and fell. The result was a torn rotator cuff. The orthopedic surgeon's recommendation was simple: surgery, followed by six weeks in a sling and a course of physical therapy. My response was equally predictable.

“Maybe it'll get better.” Five months later, I'm still having that argument with reality.

Every morning my shoulder reminds me that hope is not a treatment plan. It reminds me when I reach for something on a shelf. It reminds me when I pull on a jacket. It reminds me when I try to lift something that used to feel effortless.

Jennifer has been dealing with her own version of the same lesson. For years she has postponed a knee replacement. There was always a reason. We had a rally planned. We had a trip scheduled. We had commitments. We had places we wanted to go before dealing with surgery. The timing never seemed right. Eventually, though, your body gets a vote. Today she uses a cane. In a month she'll undergo knee replacement surgery.

Neither of us likes admitting any of this. But the truth is that after fifteen years of RV travel, we're discovering something that many of our readers already know. Aging doesn't necessarily stop you from doing what you love. It does, however, force you to do it differently.

Long travel days are a good example. There was a time when driving six or seven hours felt easy. We'd arrive at a campground, set up, and still have enough energy to go exploring. Today, six hours feels like six hours. The miles haven't gotten longer. We have.

At the end of a travel day, I feel it more than I used to. Climbing in and out of the truck takes a little more effort. Hooking up and disconnecting takes a little longer. The recovery time seems longer, too. That's not a complaint. It's simply an observation. And it raises a question that I think many RVers eventually ask themselves.

How do you know when it's time to stop?

The more I've thought about it, the more I've concluded that's probably the wrong question. A better question is: How do you keep going? Because over the years we've met plenty of RVers who have figured out exactly how to do that. Take our friend Loren.

Loren is in his nineties. He still maintains his own Roadtrek. He still changes the oil. He still performs much of his own maintenance. And every year he takes at least one major trip, often crossing the country in the process. Whenever I talk with him, I come away encouraged. He isn't pretending to be young. He isn't trying to compete with people half his age. He has simply refused to surrender his curiosity.

Then there are our friends Ron and Barbara.

They seem to be perpetually traveling somewhere. One month they're in the Southwest. The next they're crossing the Plains. Then they're off exploring some other corner of North America. They've adjusted their pace over the years, but they haven't stopped moving. The road still calls to them.

One of my favorite memories, though, comes from one of our earliest RV rallies more than a decade ago.

We were boondocking in Michigan's Porcupine Mountains. About twenty RVs had gathered with us for several days of camping, hiking, and exploring. Every day people headed off to see waterfalls, climb overlooks, or hike trails through the forest. One couple didn't do any of that. They were the oldest people in the group. Every morning we'd see them sitting outside their RV in lawn chairs. While everyone else headed off on adventures, they stayed put.

At first, I remember thinking they were missing out. Then I realized they weren't missing a thing. People naturally gravitated toward them. Campers stopped by to visit. Stories were exchanged. Laughter was shared. She always seemed to have homemade cookies available for anyone who wandered by. Making it down to the evening campfire was challenge enough for them, but they never missed it.

One night I asked how long they had been RVing. More than fifty years, they told me. Think about that for a moment. Fifty years of road trips. Fifty years of campgrounds. Fifty years of breakdowns, adventures, friendships, sunsets, and memories.

I asked if they planned to keep traveling. The husband smiled and said, “We figure we've got a few more years left.” There was no sadness in his voice. No self-pity. No fear. Just gratitude. The older I get, the more I understand what he meant.

Because I've come to realize that RVing was never really about how many miles you cover. It was never about collecting destinations or checking national parks off a list. The real rewards have always been something else entirely.

Freedom. Curiosity. Adventure. Connection. Community.

Those things don't disappear because you need a cane. They don't disappear because your shoulder hurts. They don't disappear because you can't hike the mountain anymore. Sometimes they simply take a different form.

Maybe adventure becomes a scenic drive instead of a strenuous hike. Maybe it's sitting around a campfire listening to stories instead of telling them. Maybe it's staying in one campground for two weeks rather than rushing through five in the same amount of time.

Maybe slowing down isn't giving up. Maybe it's simply adapting. The more I think about it, the more I realize that slowing down physically doesn't mean slowing down mentally. I may not hike every trail I once did. I may need a little more recovery time after a long travel day. I may have to be smarter about how far we drive and how often we move. But my curiosity hasn't slowed down at all. If anything, it's growing.

And maybe that's one of the reasons I finally decided to write this.

For years I've thought of RV Lifestyle as a place to help people travel better. Increasingly, though, I think it's becoming something more than that. Many of us are entering a season of life where the questions aren't just about campgrounds and RVs. They're about adapting. Staying engaged. Remaining independent. Continuing to explore. Finding purpose. Learning how to keep moving forward even when our bodies occasionally ask us to slow down.

Those are conversations worth having. They're certainly conversations Jennifer and I are having. And if they're on our minds, I suspect they're on the minds of many of you as well. Jennifer and I aren't ready to stop traveling. Not even close. There are still places we want to see, stories we want to tell, and friends we want to visit. What we're learning, however, is that there's nothing wrong with traveling at the speed age allows.

In fact, there may be wisdom in it.

The road ahead may be shorter than the road behind. That's simply reality. But that doesn't make the miles ahead any less meaningful. If anything, it makes them more precious. So yes, I'm 80. That fact is a little scary to admit publicly. But if I've learned anything from the RVers we've met over the years, it's this: getting older doesn't mean the adventure is over. It simply means you're learning a different way to travel.

And as long as there are roads to follow, campfires to gather around, stories waiting to be discovered, and new things left to learn, I suspect there are still plenty of miles ahead.

Adventure doesn't end with age.

This post was originally published in our RV Community. Please explore our “off-Facebook” community of nice, well-mannered RVers. Expand your connections.

Missed a few of our latest posts? Here you go:

• How to Start the RV Lifestyle
• What to Pack for Your First RV Trip, and What to Leave Home
• Your First Night in an RV: What to Expect and How to Relax
• How to Plan an RV Trip Step by Step Without Missing Anything
• 10 Beginner RV Mistakes That Can Ruin Your First Year on the Road