The satellite television channels I am frequenting lately seem to be running a plethora of programming and adverts related to RV’s. I am getting excited.

Having spent a portion of my youth at the periphery of the cinematography business in Hollywood, I am aware of the pleasure, perhaps the necessity of a location vehicle out of which to work.

I have loaded many Hasselblad film backs at the breakfast table, out of direct sunlight and blowing beach sand. I have done food shots with a stylist cooking the product in the RV kitchen. And many fashion shoots with models dressing, make-up artists smearing and dabbing and hair stylists frizzing away in the motorhome.

But now living in MA, just the thought of horsing one of these monsters around New England gives me pause. I know of no place to legally park one, excepting a commercial truck stop, an RV campground or an interstate service area.

You can’t just plop one anywhere you like, as in the Tom Selleck-narrated “Go RV-ing” commercials.

And then there are the roadside ditches in Maine. Both sides of rural (and some town) streets have 18" deep open water drainage ditches instead of storm sewers. Most are carefully camouflaged with grass and weeds. Just grinning and waiting for summer people.

If you pull off the road in Maine, you will instantly find yourself with the two right-hand wheels dangling in mid air and your vehicle sitting firmly on its frame. And not a cell phone tower for fifty miles.

And then there’s the cost. During a recent exploratory trip to the nearest RV dealer in Connecticut, I found a nice Class C model for only $160,000. Class A’s were priced as if they came from Boeing. Nothing at all less than 100K - even a trailer - figuring in the cost of a Chev Suburban to tow it around.

If I lived (and photographed) in the wide open spaces of the Wild West this would be a very different matter. But I just don’t think the Northeast is set up for this kind of behemoth.

Several years ago, I purchased a new Winnebago LeSharo. After two trips I concluded than anything nimble enough to scoot around Eastern roads is too uncomfortable to tolerate. Sleeping on the breakfast nook, pooping in a phonebooth while showering with a kitchen faucet hand-sprayer, and spending the evening hunched-over in a room with a 60" ceiling are really not my style.

So, has anyone managed to make one of these things work for location photography?

The idea of having a hot pot of coffee and my La-Z-Boy within feet of the tripod is certainly appealing in my golden years!