The Funny and Frustrating Reality of RV Toilets and Tanks
'Shit Happens,' and in this one, it's quite literal.
Ah, the glamorous life of RV living. You picture sunsets over mountains, campfires under starry skies, and endless adventures on the open road. But what they don't show you in those dreamy Instagram posts is the not-so-glamorous side: dealing with your RV's waste receptacles and tanks.
It All Started With a Leak
I have to admit, I'm a little gun-shy around all things toilet and sewer these days. We'd been RVing for three years with no really shitty incidents. I thought I was in the clear. But then, in a moment of foolish bravery, I muttered to the universe, "What's the big deal, why all the horror stories?" It's like one Fate said to another, "Here, hold my beer," and bam! The teeny tiny square notches at the gasket on the clear elbow that screwed into the sewer hose hole at the RV park gave way, and I got crap on my shoes before Tim could quickly close the valve. WTF? Who designed that? This isn't paper dolls or IKEA; there should be way more to this than put tiny tab A into small slot B and twist. Shouldn't there be locking nuts or something more substantial? Okay, in fairness, they do twist into place, but really, a sliver of plastic in a slight slot?!?
Note to self: Inspect and replace frequently.
When Lightning Strikes Twice
Apparently, the Fate wasn't looking and missed the first incident, so it had to happen one more time. Admittedly, this second time was totally my fault. You know the twisted connections between the four nipples and hose, the twisty part that locks the hose in place in the wet bay? It looks like four hooks, and the nipples slip past them as you twist and stop in a circular notch so it won't back itself out. FYI, it is so much stronger than the tiny square tab A and slot B apparatus.
How many did I say? Four. Oh yes, four. Not three, not two, FOUR. Wanna know what happens if you miss one? No? I didn't either, but I'll tell you: "SHIT HAPPENS," into the wet bay, that's what.
Note to self: Count the hooks and ensure all are correctly locked in place before pulling the plunger.
Fortunately, both disasters were small and on concrete so clean-up and disinfecting with was easy and complete.
Scarce Commode-ities
So, let me paint you a couple more pictures: Our RV toilet in our first Newmar decided to go on strike.
We're talking about a new commode, which post-Covid was challenging to acquire. We expected it to arrive on time and packed with care; well, that's just too much to ask, I guess. We drove to the warehouse to retrieve it once we hunted it down with the tracking number. But to our surprise, it sounded like a windchime when we picked up the box.
Note to self: porcelain toilets are a fragile commode-ity.
DIY
In our second and current Newmar coach, the toilet's macerator pump went out, which is $1,500 to repair with labor or $300 for the parts only. Yes, you guessed it. It's another DIY job. Guess which one we picked? That's right, DIY wins again! I know it's an acronym, but have you ever phonetically read it? It's "die." And I think we all know this at some level of consciousness, yet we still take on the risk. So don't anyone tell me this shit isn't risky business.
Honestly, it wasn't as terrible as we imagined. Thank the RV gods for the escape door behind the commode that gave us better access; otherwise, it would have been more difficult. Once all the clamps are in place and the wiring is connected, it's mostly about getting all the wires and hoses into the right place to reseat properly.
Note to self: with some patience, we did not DIY.
Little Black Tank Lies
Our black tank isn't that special; it's like many others. It has a button and indicator light on the wall to flush the toilet. It has a built-in warning system. When the tank gets to two-thirds full, it shines yellow; at full, it turns red and will not flush. But it just so happens that ours is a liar. You heard me. I said it's full of crap, and I don't mean literally because we know we just emptied the tank. There is nothing in it, and it's yellow. So now what?
If you are a boomer, you may have experienced this: when you lie, your mouth is washed with soap. So that's what the hubs, Tim, did. Again and again. Then he had it 'professionally cleaned' several times, and it still shined yellow. We had the sensors replaced, still yellow. Clearly, these folks didn't know shit! Tanks a lot!
It wasn't until we heard about and had Kleen Tanks out that the yellow light disappeared, and it did not return until the tank was actually 2/3rds full. These dudes have a power washing system for the interior, and all residue that builds up on the walls is removed from the tank interior.
It worked. They prove it, too. They hook up with clear pipes, and as gross as it sounds, there is satisfaction in seeing your money at work. Clean as a whistle. I will say you don't mind paying the bill when you witness the miracle.
Note to self: If you don't succeed call Kleen Tanks.
So, there you have it, another chapter in the saga of RV life. Remember, the next time you think, "What's the worst that could happen?" just know shit happens. And when it does, be prepared to laugh about it later, a lot later! Because if you're not laughing, you're crying, and in RV life, laughter is the best way to keep rolling down the road.
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