When RVers think of awnings, most think of a sheltered area outside their RV’s front door. It’s a place to enjoy fresh air without getting soaked from the rain or burned by the sun. For many RVers, it’s also an extra room in an otherwise small living space. Some RVers go to great lengths to furnish their “awning room” with chairs, tables, a rug — all to make the space more inviting.
What this area is — if you boil it down — is the equivalent of the old front porch.
Before home air conditioning, Americans spent summer afternoons and evenings on their front porches watching the world pass by. Sitting in comfy chairs, sometimes rocking chairs, they idled away the time, waiting for their homes to cool. Neighbors, even strangers, would pass by. Some became friends. “Join us for iced tea,” the homeowners might say. They would share stories about their families and neighbors. For better or (occasionally) worse, everybody knew everyone else’s business.
Parents watched neighbors’ children grow, and the kids came to know and respect their elders. It made for a strong sense of community, where people not only knew their neighbors but watched out for them.
I remember visiting with a friend’s grandmother in her home in a tiny town in Missouri, where every house had a front porch and everyone knew everyone else. “We never lock our doors,” the woman told me. “When I go away, I come home with pie in the refrigerator that wasn’t there when I left.”
Alas, front porches began to disappear when home air conditioning came along, and the pace quickened with television and other comforts to keep people inside. Suburbs with their fenced backyards provided the final blow. It became easy, as it is today, to live for years without ever knowing one’s neighbors, much less caring about them.
AND THIS IS WHY I SAY America needs more awnings. I’m referring to RV awnings, of course. Anyone who has taken an evening walk through a campground or RV park has noticed their neighbors relaxing beneath their awnings, inviting conversation, much as people did in the old days on their front porches. “Nice RV you have there,” one might say to another. “What kind of dog is that?” another might ask. “Oh, I see you’re from Ohio. We are, too!” Etc.
And so, just as it is with the old front porch, friendships begin. Most don’t amount to anything, but occasionally a bond is made, and a friendship may last for years — all because of an awning, some idle time, and a desire to be sociable.
If you have made friends with RVers you met beneath their awning or your own, please leave a comment and tell us about it.
MORE ESSAYS BY CHUCK:
- Roadside Journal: June 22, 2025
- The father who turned his boy into a pickle
- From the archives: Random observations from the road in 1988 America
- How observing pavement helped create a retailing empire
RVT1215
In addition to what your article said I also believe the quick built track homes starting in the 50s did away with the porch and families/neighbors interacting. JMHO
Yep..Levittown.
Wow, I couldn’t agree with you more! …and yes, we’ve made wonderful friends – both RV’ing (my husband is much better at starting those “Hi! Nice to see you” or Great looking coach” comments, than I) and at our sticks ‘n bricks – that HAS a front porch! I disliked our previous neighborhood that was all garages people pulled into and disappeared inside. Where’s the “friendly” in that? I love sitting outside and smiling, greeting people, enjoying life!
I reflect back on the fully mechanical RV awnings of 25+ years ago that were built like a tank. We used to put ours out and, unless very strong storms/winds were imminent, we’d leave it out the whole time we were camped. We could easily adjust the slope or side-to-side angle due to sun position or to shed rain.
That kind of awning encouraged setting up the chairs, doing a little decorating, etc. to make an inviting space.
The much weaker power awnings of recent years, especially the armless variety, cannot be left out like the old ones could. Plus many are so high up, and with little or no adjustability, they are many times worthless.
At a recent RV Rally I extended my old fashioned manual awning, put out a few chairs and my campfire-in-a-can and before long had a group enjoying stories and tales of days gone by!
I miss the days as a kid in Oklahoma where folks gathered to “spit and whittle” and admire one another’s coon dogs. Maybe even a little “taste” now and then.
Chuck, what happened to the “idle time” that you mentioned in your article? My dad had two jobs much of his life. He had a huge garden; he had to go to the lumber yard to load coal on his trailer to heat the house. We had to haul our garbage to the dump. Mom had a wringer washer and hung the clothes on the line. She canned our food and cooked all meals and she and we boys washed dishes. We still had idle time to sit on the front porch and visit with neighbors. Now all of the above-mentioned tasks are automatic, and we have less idle time to just sit and visit at the end of the day. The faster we go, the slower we get.
What a great observation! I remember all those things, except we had oil heat, not coal.
One answer: No internet, no “social” media, no texts, no phone calls interrupting us all day because we carry it with us. Add up all those hours consumed every day! 🤔
Hit the nail right on the head…electronic crack has stolen our time and souls. Time wasted on inconsequential BS and wasting our lives away. I am not against the internet for researching a project or a fix but social media erodes the mind.
Thank you for the wonderful article, Chuck! Oddly enough, we have connected with two couples that we met at campgrounds this summer. We saw them multiple times as our travels repeatedly intersected. Surprisingly none of us extended an awning, but, instead, our initial meetings were marked by our dogs meeting. Ultimately, the canine interactions led to extended human conversations. Have a great day and safe travels!