From Target Aisles to Open Highways
- campsidephotos
- Aug 13
- 3 min read
For years, we had what most people would call a “successful” life—a stable career, a steady paycheck, and the kind of salary that made impulse trips to Target feel like therapy. We were overworked, constantly on the go, and trying to buy our way into happiness with throw pillows and scented candles that barely made a dent in the emptiness we felt. Deep down, we craved something different—more space for creativity, more time to chase sunsets instead of deadlines. My husband's passion for photography had been quietly tugging at us for years, and the idea of waking up in a new place, camera in hand, felt far more appealing than another day in an office having small talk with co-workers. So we traded in the comfort of routine for the open road, moved into an Airstream (to start), and set out to find not just beautiful landscapes to photograph, but a life that actually felt like ours.
The truth is, when we first decided to take the leap, we had absolutely no idea what we were getting ourselves into. I didn’t know what to look for when buying an RV, what “full hookups” even meant, or what came standard versus what would be a costly add-on. Our crash course began with a trip to an RV show, and within minutes, we were wide-eyed, wandering through polished interiors and imagining our lives unfolding in them. The spark was instant. A few weeks later, we made our first real visit to an Airstream dealership, and that was it—we were smitten. The sleek silver curves, the cozy interiors, the promise of freedom it seemed to whisper—it all felt like the perfect fit. In hindsight, we were wildly naive, but in that moment, all we could see was possibility.

After signing the papers and officially becoming Airstream owners, reality set in—we had a shiny new home on wheels but zero clue how to actually live in it. Suddenly, our evenings were filled with YouTube rabbit holes and note-taking marathons, soaking up every seasoned RVer’s opinion on what was “absolutely essential” versus “nice to have.” We learned about sewer hoses, water filters, surge protectors, leveling blocks, and a hundred other things we didn’t know existed a month earlier. Our Amazon cart became a revolving door of gadgets and gear, each one promising to make RV life smoother. It was overwhelming at times, but also exciting—every new piece of knowledge felt like one step closer to freedom on the open road.
Once we had all the essentials ready, we decided to do a trial run—towing the Airstream up to a family member’s house and spending the weekend living in it. It felt like the perfect low-pressure way to get our feet wet, but it quickly turned into another learning curve. We discovered just how fast a small space can feel cluttered and how every inch has to work double duty. By the end of the weekend, “organization” became our new favorite word, and we were diving into Pinterest boards, storage hacks, and collapsible everything to make our gear, clothes, and everyday items actually fit. It was a reminder that RV life isn’t just about where you go—it’s about making the most of the space you have.
Looking back, those first few weeks were a blur of excitement, nerves, and a whole lot of learning on the fly. We didn’t have all the answers—and truthfully, we still don’t—but that’s part of the beauty of this journey. Every campground, every sunrise, every little problem we solve teaches us something new about the road and about ourselves. This Airstream isn’t just a way to travel—it’s the start of a life we’ve been dreaming about for years. And while we may have traded stability for uncertainty, we’ve also traded routine for adventure, and that feels like the best deal we’ve ever made. So here’s to the miles ahead, the stories we’ll gather, and the photos that will help us remember it all.





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