Hello, Hymer

November 26, 2011

Well, there’s no escaping it. There’s a monster on my drive. A 20ft Hymer-type monster, its nose pressed up to the garage door and its rear end just about squeezed off the road to avoid upsetting the neighbours in our cul-de-sac.

It’s not an elegant beast, but it is beautifully functional. It’s been there for a fortnight now, apart from a brief foray to Tesco to fill up with 5p-a-litre-off diesel.

In between house refurbishment and coping with the death of my father-in-law just days after my husband’s eventual redundancy, we’d been scouring eBay and dealership websites for months and the summer had disappeared.

There had been wasted viewing trips to London (me) and Bristol (husband). Finally, like buses, two motorhomes that looked as if they could fit the bill turned up at once. With time in such short supply we decided to see them both in a day – a Pilote in Birmingham and the Hymer in Grimsby. Of course. What could be simpler?

Pausing only to invite ourselves to stay overnight with friends in Bridlington, we set off for Birmingham in a state of high excitement, feeling more adventurous already. We had to wait an hour or two to get a test drive, and decided to pass the time at a nearby greasy spoon – a very friendly place, but a bit of a mistake, as it transpired.

The Pilote not only sported that bilious maroon-and-yellow-spattered upholstery that Europeans seem to love, but also turned out to be rather rattly. We left for Humberside unconvinced and way behind schedule, with the world’s heaviest fish-and-chip lunch – I had no idea people south of Glasgow put batter on their chips –sitting uncomfortably in my stomach, as it would for the next 24 hours.

I can’t imagine we’d have remained on civil terms if the Hymer had also proved a disappointment, but luckily it didn’t.

It was dark by the time we reached Ikonic Kampers, so the test drive had to wait until next morning, but I could tell the moment we sat inside that this was the one. Not only was it upholstered in soothing shades of blue and grey, but it had pretty little blue LED lights and loads of storage space as well as all the boring practical things that my husband was talking to the dealer about.

The dog seemed to like it, and fitted nicely into the space under the table, which was a bonus. Mind you, the poor animal would have liked anything after eight hours cooped up in the back of a Peugeot 307 with only the briefest of walks.

A deal was struck, and a week or so later, formalities completed, we all met up again at Watford Gap services for the big handover. I forgot to mention that the Hymer is a left-hand drive model, and as the dog and I followed it home down the motorway there were one or two heart-stopping moments when my husband appeared to forget that vital fact and veer into the next lane.

Still we made it, and here we are. With my husband’s new business taking off, I can’t see us taking off much before February. But just looking at that big beast outside does make anything seem possible.