A tree had just fallen on our second Heritage Glen. We'd been talking about making the jump to a Class A motorhome for a while — someday, eventually, when the time was right. Then the time got right all at once. We had trips planned and a trailer sitting under a pile of timber. So we went and got a motorhome.
The 2016 Fleetwood Excursion 35E checked the same boxes that had worked so well for us in the Heritage Glen: two slide-outs, a rear bunkhouse and a drop down over-cab bed so Zack and guests had their own space, and a floor plan that just made sense. Same philosophy, different category entirely. This was our first Class A — a diesel pusher — and stepping up from a travel trailer to a motorhome is a bigger jump than it sounds.
Finding the Right One
There was a local option. I looked at it once and moved on — dogged out, not very clean, not worth the money. So I widened the search.
Two rigs in the Dallas area looked promising. I have RV friends out there, and I asked them to go take a look before I drove anywhere. Texas is a long drive from South Carolina. Their report: one was okay. A scratch on the side, showed some wear, nothing alarming for a rig its age but not a standout. The other one was spotless. Inside and out. Garage kept, which means it had only seen the outside world when it was actively on a trip. That was the one.
My friend and I left South Carolina after he got off work and drove straight through the night to Dallas. Fourteen and a half hours. We stopped for fuel, restrooms, and one detour for BBQ just after crossing into Texas — because you don't drive into Texas and skip the BBQ.
We looked at both rigs. No contest.
Rush Hour. George W. Bush Freeway. 36 Feet.
I'd done a test drive. That was great. But the first time I drove this thing for real was pulling out into Dallas rush hour traffic on the George W. Bush Freeway.
To be clear: this was a 36-foot diesel pusher. Brand new to me. Heavy traffic. My co-pilot also experiencing it for the first time from the passenger seat. We were both more than a little nervous. We made it out of Dallas in one piece.
Then the rain started.
The Longest Drive Home
It rained for most of the trip back. Not a light drizzle — a proper downpour. We stopped for the night in Shreveport, which was the right call. The next morning it was still raining.
A windshield wiper gave out somewhere along the way, but luckily we found a Camping World, and they had the right part in stock. After changing it out in the rain, we were back on the road.
As we got closer to South Carolina, a new problem presented itself. A rare winter storm was moving into the Carolinas. The most direct route home through Greenville and Spartanburg had the worst of it. So, we rerouted south through Augusta and up through Columbia, and we made peace with the very real possibility that we would have to leave a brand-new motorhome parked in Columbia, about an hour from home, and go back for it after the storm passed.
We kept driving, and luckily there was no accumulation. We started to think we might actually make it.
We made it to my storage facility. That's where the weather caught up with us.
Six inches of snow and ice sludge filled the parking lot. Cold, wet, end of a very long two days. We eased that 36-foot rig through it and didn't get stuck. When we got out to unhook, the icy puddles immediately soaked through our shoes. We got it parked. We got home.
That was how The Eagle landed in our lives.
405 Nights
Over the next four years, we put 405 nights on that rig. Lake Tahoe. The Outer Banks. The Florida Keys again. More time in Orange Beach, Alabama. Weekends all over the Carolinas. It was the rig that took us everywhere.
