Ever dreamed of selling it all, packing up, and living life on the road full time? That’s exactly what Cognative Ambassador Macey and her husband Austin did.
I first met them in Sedona at the Spring Mountain Bike Festival a couple years back, and ever since, I’ve (jealously) followed their journey as they chase trails across some of the most epic riding spots out West.
So what's it really like to leave it all behind for full-time RV life? We caught up with Macey to hear how it all began—and what it's taken to make it work. Her story might just inspire you to follow your own path, take a few risks, and at the very least… book that next big MTB trip.
– Austin Bankert
Founder, Cognative MTB
Some people think freedom is a destination—or maybe just a vacation.
For me, it’s a dirt trail disappearing into the trees…and the open road stretching endlessly toward the next ride.
What started as a “what if” conversation over beers one night turned into a full-blown lifestyle: living full-time in an RV, traveling from one mountain biking destination to the next. No fixed address. No morning commute. Just me, my rig, my bike, and a map full of trail dreams and dirt-based destinations.
It’s not always glamorous. There are days when every campsite is full and there’s nowhere to park. Days of RV, truck, or bike maintenance. Days when I’m dirty, tired, and in far-from-perfect situations.
But more often than not, it’s quiet forest mornings, golden hour singletrack, and the thrill of discovering new lines in places that are absolutely to die for.
This is what full-time RV life looks like—through the lens of a mountain biker who chose the road less traveled (literally).
Why I Chose This Life
I used to live in a typical house, working a standard 9–5 job and spending weekends chasing trails within a 2-hour radius. Every Sunday, I’d come home from a weekend of camping and riding already wishing it was Saturday again.
The "normal" life just wasn’t for me.
At some point, I started to ask:
“What if I just kept going?”
“What if I sold everything so I never had to come home and could just keep exploring?”
The idea of full-time RV life started small—weekend trips in a converted utility trailer, testing the waters. But every time I drove back home, it felt wrong. Like I didn’t belong in that stationary, traditional lifestyle.
I didn’t want to leave the forest and trails behind. I didn’t want to cram adventure into a 48-hour window anymore. I wanted it to become my everyday reality.
So, I sold most—if not all—of my stuff, bought a used travel trailer and a truck, installed solar, and hit the road full-time. No turning back.
Was it easy? No. I had to figure out how to sell my house in the middle of nowhere (Ellijay, Georgia), transition to remote work, learn RV maintenance, and downsize everything I owned. But once I found the rhythm, it became second nature.
The Setup: My Rolling Basecamp
My home on wheels is a 28-foot travel trailer pulled by a 2014 Toyota Tundra. I chose this setup over a van because I wanted more space for gear—and the ability to unhook and explore with just the truck.
Inside:
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Small kitchen in the rear with a stove, fridge, and sink
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Convertible dinette that doubles as my remote office
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Bed tucked into the front
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Tiny shower
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Composing toilet (which I absolutely love for boondocking)
Outside:
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Five bikes mounted securely on a rack on the Tundra
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Roof-mounted solar panels for off-grid power
Having a well-thought-out, livable setup makes all the difference between just surviving and truly thriving on the road.
Daily Life on the Road
People often ask, “What’s your average day like?” The truth is, there’s no such thing as typical—but there is a general rhythm that keeps me grounded.
Mornings:
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Wake up with the sun (usually parked in a quiet forest)
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Make coffee on the stove
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Knock out a few hours of remote work (I work online)
Midday:
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Load up a hydration pack, grab some snacks, and ride
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Whether it’s a few laps on local flow trails or a big backcountry epic, I try to get out every day—even if it’s just a recovery spin
Evenings:
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Cook dinner and check trail maps for tomorrow
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Relax, watch a little TV, go on a two-mile walk
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Wind down and rest up to hit more singletrack the next day
The best part? I don’t have to cram everything into a weekend. If a trail system is amazing, I can stay longer. If the trails are blown out, too busy, or just not that great—no problem. I move on.
People often assume I’m on a permanent vacation. I’m not. I work remotely and treat this lifestyle as a careful balance between work and play. It’s structured freedom.
Lessons I’ve Learned
1. Slow Down
The temptation is to see everything. But you’ll burn out fast living like that. I’ve learned to stay in one spot for a while—sometimes weeks—really soaking in the vibe, the trails, and the community.
2. Be Ready to Pivot
Weather changes. Trails close. Your rig breaks down. It happens. Having a flexible mindset is key to surviving (and staying sane) on the road.
3. Community Matters
I’ve met some incredible people—at trailheads, in bike shops, or just randomly camped next door. The mountain biking and RV communities overlap more than you’d think, and they’re full of like-minded adventurers always down for a ride.
4. You Don’t Need That Much Stuff
Seriously. We all overpack. The longer I live this way, the more I realize how little I actually need to be happy and well-equipped. Simplicity is powerful.
Final Thoughts: Would I Do It Again?
Without hesitation.
This lifestyle has changed how I think about time, money, relationships, and riding. I’ve discovered places I never would’ve visited, ridden trails that challenged and inspired me, and learned how to live more fully—with less.
Is it always easy? Not at all. But it’s always worth it.
I wouldn’t trade this lifestyle for anything else.
If you’re on the fence about going full-time in an RV, let me say this: if you’re in love with trails, adventure, and the thrill of the unknown—trust your gut and give it a shot.
You might just find that the best ride of your life starts not at the trailhead… but at the end of your own driveway.
- Macey Kligerman