After a dozen RVs, all the floor plans and ways to avoid roughing it (pendant lights, laundry chutes, fireplaces, surround-sound stereos, spice racks) blur together. But it’s clear that one thing hasn’t changed much since my family camping days: the color palette. Taupe, tan, auburn, chocolate, khaki, coffee — no matter what you call it, and how fancy the material, it’s all brown. Brown tile, brown carpet, brown brocade sofas, brown bedspreads, brown window treatments. Somehow, I don’t imagine that the people living in these vehicles are so filthy and unkempt that they’re leaving traces of dirt in their path. Why so brown?
On the far side of the lot, I find RVs that are more my size — and shape. The ALiner is a sweet little pop-up A-frame — a triangle in a land of rectangles. The smallest size, which can be towed by a motorcycle, looks like a white gingerbread house. Little Guy makes an adorable, brightly colored teardrop trailer called the T@B. Other teardrop models have hidden kitchens on the exterior. You can’t stand up inside, and crawling in is only slightly less unsettling than being rolled into an MRI chamber. But it’s beautifully utilitarian. And it’s not brown.