When I think back on my summers growing up on the Connecticut shoreline, so much was idyllic. I spent long hot days on sandy beaches swimming in the Long Island Sound, or enrolled in craft camps weaving baskets while slurping Capri Sun. My family would tuck into fried seafood takeout from the clam shack down the street for dinner on our deck. We also went on vacation. In the mid-’90s as a preteen, that meant an RV trip.
Instead of stuffing all four of us into a 300-square-foot hotel room, we’d stay in a Keystone Passport Travel Trailer rented through RVShare with a kitchen, living area, bathroom and two bedrooms. It was larger than my family’s RV, and was parked and waiting for us in a KOA campground outside of San Diego, so we didn’t have to worry about hauling it. Upon arrival, I felt optimistic.