Getting Down
Downsizing may be the word of the moment, but that means either everything has to be small, or you can’t have everything. Granted there are limits to tankage, payload weight and volume, and how much your motorhome can tow, yet there’s a contradictory element about taking it all with you when you’re trying to get away from it all.

I found, for example, plenty of conventional Class-A motorhomes with the commanding view that made SUV/crossover sales explode: lots of cargo space and enough cushion in GVWR to carry it all; room for six people to sleep; and all the basic requirements of living better than cavemen with length less than 30 feet. Class-C motorhomes could do the same, albeit with smaller cushions in the loading and towing for conventional C’s and substantial allowances on truck-based C’s, and there were plenty of travel trailers offering beds for five to seven in less than 26 feet. True, that doesn’t include the tow vehicle, but the uniform at the campsite entry with a length limit isn’t counting your truck.

Mercedes’ Sprinter chassis has shown a van-based motorhome can still drive comfortably at West Texas speeds, and now appears under Class-B, Class-C and some Class-A motorhomes. Weight remains the limiting factor, but given that a 25-foot aero Winnebago Via (a Sprinter-chassis Class A reviewed in this issue) can go so many more places than a longer/wider/taller motorhome, does it really matter that tankage is about the same as a Class C of the same size? Knowing that people have sailed around the world on smaller freshwater tanks, I don’t think so.

Most Class-B motorhomes won’t downsize because size is dictated by the shell that qualifies it as a B (technically speaking, a Prevost-style coach is a Class B), but they will downsize in engine size, battery requirements, and other component aspects. Adventure-van builder Sportsmobile’s 2010 production was about 50-percent Sprinter-based, up from 10 to 15 percent in 2006, and I’m betting that a 20-mpg 3.0L diesel rather than a 10-mpg 6.8L gas engine is major reason why.

Trailers and campers aren’t so much downsizing as making better use of the space and taking weight out to downsize the companion-vehicle size. So-called “hybrids,” which use pop-out bunks (as opposed to hard-wall slide-outs), can remove more than 60 square feet of floor space by popping out a couple of double beds with minimal weight increase, and unless you need maximum AC, heat, silence, or hail-repellent properties, give up little to conventional hard sides.

Living Large
However, there remains a population of enthusiasts who consider their RV a home that’s mobile and thus it requires everything, more floor space than a Tokyo apartment, two bedrooms, at least a bath-and-a-half, ceiling fan in the master, and three televisions—two inside and another outdoors with the barbecue.

That part is easy. The problem is that they want it for $150,000 or less, inside a 40-foot limit for campgrounds or driver license rules, with 4 tons of payload, with towing capacity for a Suburban, and with 15 mpg. Finally, they want it to be as reliable as their house — despite the fact that your home appliances aren’t exposed to the on-going vibration, climate, and less-stable power supply of the average RV. As a friend once noted, his fridge had more miles on it than his frequently-broken trail-toy Jeep.