The best RV type for full time living

Warning: snarky language ahead …

Alright, buckle up, you nomadic dreamer, because picking the “best” RV for full-time living is like choosing the “best” pizza topping—everyone’s got an opinion, and they’re all wrong unless they agree with you. And no, pineapple DOES NOT belong on pizza. 🍕😜

There’s no one-size-fits-all RV that’ll make every wannabe road warrior swoon. Your perfect rig depends on your budget, travel style, and how much you secretly hate doing laundry at a campground.

So, instead of crowning a single champion, let’s roll through the main RV types—each with its own quirks, perks, and reasons you’ll either love it or regret it faster than you can say “black tank disaster.” (And if you haven’t had one of those yet … just wait. 💩)

Class A motorhomes

This is what I currently have — a 1987 Fleetwood Pace Arrow Class A.

Motorhomes are the behemoths of the RV world, the rockstar tour buses of your open-road fantasies. These 30 to 45-foot giants come packed with amenities like full kitchens, bathrooms with actual showers, and enough storage to hoard your questionable life choices. They’re self-contained, often with slide-outs for extra living space if they’re newer, and may be able to tow a small car for city jaunts.

Or if it’s like mine — people just think, Breaking Bad — literally, people from around the world. Although I’ve found people from around the world are less judgmental and don’t think I’m literally a tweaker. The bathroom is horribly awkward — built for shapeshifters. Because if you’re tall or have big hips, you’re not going to fit. So, beware of older models. Although, I’m sure some newer ones have similar issues.

Benefits include unmatched comfort space for families and pets or gear-heavy travelers, and the ability to live like a rolling mansion if you have the money for a newer rig. But they guzzle gas, and parking one is quite difficult in some boondocking locations.

Ideal for those with deep pockets and a love for luxury. And by deep pockets, I mean whether you buy old or new. If you can’t fix things yourself, and it’s an older one like mine. You’re going to more than likely spend quite a bit on mechanic bills or RV repair bills (think motor plus the living part).

Class B Motorhomes (camper van)

Class B motorhomes, or camper vans, are the cool, compact rebels of the RV scene. Built on a van chassis, these 17- to 23-foot rigs are nimble, fuel-efficient, and perfect for stealth camping in urban jungles or remote hideaways. But they do tend to be quite spendy, even if you want to outfit your own from scratch. For this reason, I didn’t start out in one, but I would love to have one.

They pack a surprising amount into a small space—think a tiny kitchen, a fold-out bed, and a wet bath (shower and toilet in one soggy package). Benefits include easy driving, better gas mileage, and the ability to park without causing a neighborhood panic. But space is tight, storage is a cruel joke, and you’ll need to embrace minimalism or risk losing your mind. Perfect for solo travelers or couples who don’t mind cuddling close.

Class C Motorhomes

Class C motorhomes are the Goldilocks of RVs—not too big, not too small, just… a little awkward in their own way. Ranging from 20 to 40ish feet, they’re built on a truck chassis with a distinctive cab-over bunk that’s either a cozy sleep spot or a head-bumping hazard. Many people just opt to use it as storage or a sleeping space for more able-bodied climbers.

They offer solid amenities like separate bedrooms, decent kitchens, and [sometimes] bathrooms that don’t require yoga to use. Benefits include a balance of space and drivability, often with better fuel economy than Class As, plus the ability to tow a vehicle. They’re great for small families or those who want comfort without the Class A price tag. Downside? They’re still a pain to park, and maintenance can sneak up like a bad Tinder date.

Fifth wheel trailer

Fifth wheels are the towable titans, hitched to the bed of a heavy-duty pickup truck for a stable, spacious ride. Ranging from 25 to 49 feet, they boast multi-level layouts, huge slide-outs, and home-like features like full-size fridges, king-size beds, and fireplaces (also in bumper pulls and others) for that “I’m basically glamping” vibe. Benefits include massive living space, often rivaling Class A luxury, and the ability to unhitch your truck for errands. Of course, you can also get older models that vary with amenities and usually have smaller fridges.

Bonus tidbit of probably useless info: The longest one ever sold was the Spacecraft 57 Foot, which needs a tractor truck for safe towing. 

They’re ideal for full-timers who park long-term and want a house-on-wheels feel. But you’ll need a beefy truck, a big budget, and remember to carry plenty of patience to maneuver through tight turns or back into a campsite.

Travel trailers

Travel trailers are the versatile, towable cousins of fifth wheels, attachable to SUVs or trucks with a standard hitch. They come in all sizes, from 6-foot-ish teardrops to 40-foot-ish family bunkhouses, with layouts ranging from bare-bones to “why is this nicer than my apartment?”

And no, your SUV isn’t towing that 40-footer. Always check the towing limits and remember, you want to factor in the loaded weight (water, personal effects, etc).

Benefits include affordability, variety, and the ability to detach your tow vehicle for side trips. They’re great for budget-conscious full-timers or those who want flexibility without committing to a monster rig.

Drawbacks? Towing can be a white-knuckle experience, especially with a smaller vehicle, and larger models demand serious truck power. Why? They’re subject to sway at higher speeds or with higher winds. But, some swear by the swaybars. I’ve never had one, but they help out immensely.

Plus, backing up is a rite of passage for some people, it seems. You’ll need to remember, practice makes perfect.

Truck camper

Truck campers are the rugged individualists, sliding right into the bed of a pickup truck for a go-anywhere, minimalist setup. I have some friends who have one. They love the minimalism but also, like me, spend a good bit of time outside. So, the smaller space isn’t that bad (for some of us at least).

These compact units, typically 8 to 18-ish feet, include basics like a bed, a small kitchen, and a tiny bathroom (if you’re lucky). Benefits include off-road capability, decent fuel efficiency, and the ability to unhitch for a lightweight truck when you’re not camping.

They’re perfect for solo adventurers or couples who love boondocking in the wild. But living in one full-time is like committing to a closet with wheels—cramped, low on storage, and not exactly screaming “luxury.” If you’re a hardcore minimalist with a taste for adventure, this might be your jam.

Pop-up tent trailer

So, if I’m going to be opinionated on something. It’s probably this one. And really, it comes down to you, the climate, and your budget. You gotta do what you gotta do.

Pop-up tent trailers are the featherweights of the RV universe, folding down into a low-profile box that you tow behind almost anything with an engine—think SUVs, minivans, or even a particularly ambitious Prius.

When parked, they pop up (hence the name) into a hybrid of tent and trailer, with canvas walls, pull-out beds, and a tiny kitchenette that makes you feel like you’re literally playing house in a glorified fort.

Ranging from 8 to 20 feet when collapsed, they’re lightweight (often well under 3,000 pounds) and easy to store in your garage.

Benefits include dirt-cheap pricing, fuel-efficient towing, and a breezy, open-air vibe for those who love camping with a side of “I’m not ready for a real RV.”

They’re perfect for weekend warriors or minimalist full-timers who don’t mind roughing it. Storage is a cruel myth, insulation is a joke, and you’ll be praying for good weather unless you enjoy sleeping in a cold, soggy sock.

Conversion build

My first RV was a 6′ x 12′ cargo trailer conversion. I should never have parted ways. But here we are.

Whether you convert or rebuild an RV of any flavor, it requires a lot of work and dollars. If you can’t do the work yourself, plan on spending many more dollars.

In the end…

There you go—each RV type has its swagger and its baggage. Your “best” depends on how much space, comfort, and freedom you need versus how much you’re willing to wrestle with fuel costs, parking nightmares, or the existential dread of a full black tank.

Pick your poison and hit the road! You do you and what you can. Forget about the rest.