The Day We Picked Up Our Casita

Finding Our Family on the Open Road

They said it would feel like joining a family.

From the moment we ordered our Casita that January, the wait felt endless. For months we pored over floor plans, scrolled through Facebook groups late at night, and sketched out trips we hadn’t yet taken. We had even upgraded our Subaru Outback to the Touring XT model, specifically to have the power needed to tow the Casita's weight. Every conversation seemed to circle back to the same point: once we had the trailer, life on the road could finally begin. This was bigger than just a trip; it was the start of a new life.

The drive from Oregon to Texas stretched across six days. Each morning, as the miles rolled past wheat fields and desert highways, the anticipation grew heavier. I was a week into my own cross-country trip when my husband Cade finished his work rotation in Florida and flew to Dallas. By the time I picked him up at the Dallas-Fort Worth airport, it felt like the world had been holding its breath right along with us. Together, we pointed the car toward Rice, Texas, buzzing with the thought that we were about to become part of something bigger.

Our experience wasn’t quite like that.

Cade's first hug was filled with so much anticipation. We thought this was the moment we joined the Casita "family."

The receptionist greeted us with an easy smile, her warmth filling the lobby. But once we were passed on to the sterile customer walkthrough area, the tone shifted. The room was wide open and mostly empty, save for a single Casita model. The sales and finance people sat in cubicles lining the sides of the room, their faces illuminated by the glow of computer screens. The air felt heavy, and the silence was only broken by the low hum of the air conditioning and the muffled conversations of people on the phone. We weren’t joining a family. We were customer number 847.

The man who showed us the trailer spoke in quick, clipped bursts, checking boxes as though reading from a script. We were handed off to a kind enough finance man who didn’t seem to really care that much and seemed new to the process. After the paperwork was done and the deal was finalized, we were off. We drove away with our new trailer in tow, but all the anticipation of the months before felt heavy in the air between us. In the rearview mirror, the Casita trailed quietly behind us, and a silence stretched between Cade and me as we pulled onto the open road.

This was our first night in the Casita, and the feeling of disappointment from the day before was already melting away. The first of many sunsets.

In the weeks that followed, the cracks showed. Screws loosened. Cupboards didn’t latch. Screens slipped out of place. There was no follow-up call, no check-in email, no sign that Casita remembered us at all. But when I turned to the online groups, the response was immediate. We had joined the community months before, so we already knew how dedicated they were. It was only after that, however, when we would go online asking for advice, that we truly understood what a family they had formed. Within minutes, multiple responses would pour in. Owners offered advice, encouragement, and reassurance. Strangers stepped up with the kind of kindness the factory never delivered.

The family we were promised wasn’t in a factory. It was with us all along, stitched together by the community and the open road.

That’s where the family was all along. Not in a lobby or a sales office, but in the community that stitched together its own safety net. People who turned frustrations into laughter. Voices that reminded us home isn’t what you buy, but who you share it with.

Our Casita may not be flawless, but our journey has been richer than we ever imagined. Every mile since that day has proved what we suspected all along: the open road gives back more than any pickup day ever could.

-R. Michael

Every little detail of our home on wheels is a testament to the home we’ve built together. The pillow I designed to remind us of the open road, is just a small part of that.