Why RVers Celebrate Pull-Throughs

“A pull-through is available? For more money? Great—we’ll take it!”

We Didn’t Go To Truck Driving School

If you’ve ever RVed with anything larger than a camper van, you know the joy of snagging a pull-through site. Why? Because backing up a big rig makes it suddenly seem even bigger. Unless you’re my brother (a professional semi-truck driver), it doesn’t move the way you think it should, and the mirrors only let you know what you what you can’t actually see.

You might be wondering, “Why not use a backup camera? They’re cheap these days, and easy to install.” Good question. Both fifth wheels we’ve owned had them (although we might have left the blue protective film on one for a couple of years). But cameras have limitations and nothing beats the eyes-on-the-ground help of a spotter—especially if, like us, you didn’t graduate from truck driving school.

So as you back up, you want to know…

• Am I within the borders of the campsite?

• Is the bike rack gonna hit a tree?

• Did I overshoot the sewer connection?

• Do the slides have room to extend?

Like starting a campfire with a single match, we love plopping down in our camp chairs afterwards and proudly saying, “One try—that’s all it took.” I think that happened once. Maybe. I’m sure it must’ve.

RV Hacks for the Win

And think about it: when do you usually have to back up your RV? At the end of the day, after hours of traveling. Fortunately, as experienced travelers we have hacks that increase the chances of having a successful travel day.

For example, snacks in the cab ward off the “hangries” and maintain Roger’s blood sugar (he’s a Type 1 diabetic). Pulling through a fast-food restaurant with your rig isn’t an option, so those snacks are even more important.

We also rely on walky-talkies. Sure, cell phones could do the same job, but cell service isn’t always reliable. Our walky-talkies always work—well, except when I mash the talk button before Roger can finish his sentence.

Smart full-time RVers also stick to guidelines like the 3/3/3 rule: drive no more than 300 miles a day, arrive at your destination by 3 p.m., and stay a minimum of three nights. But just as we’ve forgotten cab snacks a few times, we’ve also arrived at a campsite after dark once or twice. Each time, we vow never to do it again.

Arriving by 3 p.m. is a great guideline. It’s light outside, the campground office is open, helpful people are outside (or maybe just staring), and you’re not exhausted. And staying at least three nights means it’s worth extending the awning, spreading out the patio mat, and unloading the bikes.

Of course, if you’re overnighting at Cracker Barrel or Walmart, the three-night minimum doesn’t apply. Those one-night stops are usually a way to split long miles over a couple of days and avoid expensive RV resort parking. (More on the joys of one-night stands in another blog post.)

The Show Must Go On—For Our Fellow Campers

But back to backing up. Maybe you’ve seen the pillows and mugs inscribed, “Sorry for what I said while backing up the camper.” Thanks to our walky-talkies and Christian upbringing, Roger and I don’t cuss—but that doesn’t mean we don’t grimace. I’m pretty sure we’ve provided a few afternoons of entertainment for some of our neighbors.

His Role, My Role—Only One Leader

Over the years, we’ve learned what works for us. First, Roger does most of the backing up. My job isn’t to tell him how to do it. I’m just there to let him know how close he is, whether the RV is straight, and how many feet to the back of the site. If either of us is unsure about the angle or proximity to a tree, Roger gets out to check. Then he knows exactly what to do. Clearly delineated roles limit the frustration factor.

In the rare instances when I’m the one backing up, I can do it with my eyes closed—literally—because all I have to do is follow Roger’s instructions.

“Back up six feet.”

“Turn the wheel to passenger side, then pull forward.”

“Cut it as tight as you can to starboard.”

By the way, I’m the designated driver for hitching up the trailer—mainly because I can (usually) follow Roger’s directions for successful hitching. And I’m proud of that.

Because sometimes I enjoy being the leader, but there’s something peaceful about trusting a good leader. Especially when you’re backing up blindly.

Every RVer has a story or two about backing in, unexpected repairs, or figuring it out on the fly. What’s something you’ve learned on the road? Share in the comments!