For sale: Beautiful Hobby Siesta 555 Motorhome. 2013. 5-berth. Only 13,000 miles. Excellent condition. £31k ono.
It’s a fantastic van, perfect layout for a family of 4, but please read on before you buy as I want you to be sure this is something you really want. We bought it a few months ago and, as you’re about to read, discovered the motorhome life is not for us....
Basically, it will suit anyone who hasn't tried motorhoming yet and is in need of a really stressful, totally exhausting holiday experience.
Yes, you too can have a try at driving non-stop at pitifully slow speeds with the stench of a chemical toilet wafting constantly under your nose. It will do 70-80mph comfortably and if you do decide to go above 55mph you have the added entertainment value of watching the fuel needle as it moves quickly downwards while reminding you that your holiday money is fast being whittled away on diesel.
This is described elsewhere as a ‘luxury’ motorhome although in order to really feel comfortable it will help if you’re not yet fully grown and have no history of claustrophobia. Our three-year-old found it perfect.
The ingenious 'Sleep-no-More' compartments which were introduced to motorhomes in the 1970's mean you get to spend the whole night trying to get some kip. The mattresses are as soft and fluffy as our patio and, if you keep the windows closed, you can experience 'a cheap high' due to the distinct lack of oxygen.
Wait, there's more... one of the truly great things about motorhoming is you get to spend every single spare minute of your holiday packing, unpacking and repacking boxes so that everything fits... and then do it all again when you realise you left your keys, your daughter’s crayons or your wife’s shoes in the bottom box. Bizarrely, most motorhomers think this is fun. Yay!
Oh, and you'll never be bored... there's always something to fix. Whether it's the window or skylight you left open before getting on the auto-route, the door handle that your children like to swing on, or any of the million-and-one crappy little plastic fixings that were put there with the specific intention of having you contact the manufacturer for a replacement at a stupidly high price.
As you’ll see from the pictures, it has a lovely shower room/toilet and a fitted ‘kitchen’. Our daughter has a 2-foot high wooden dolls house which has a similar sized kitchen but don't let floor space put you off - this comes complete with a sink in which you can fit a whole coffee mug and a hob on which you can practice the forgotten art of 'one-pot-cooking'. The oven is immaculate as it hasn't been used – we weren't able to find an item of food that would fit.
The shower looks great doesn’t it? And if you have the physique of a broom handle it will serve you perfectly. I’ll tell you about the toilet in a minute.
Driving this thing is a one-of-a-kind experience. Have you ever driven a cement mixer? I's very similar. It is also a chiropractor’s dream. After a few hundred miles you’ll soon notice you’ve developed a painful stoop from ducking every time you drive under a bridge, hoping and praying you don’t lose your bedroom.
But of course, the biggest advantage of a motorhome is the freedom it brings and this is where they really come into their own. After driving for twelve hours to make your ferry booking, you can simply pull over in your exhausted, weary state… and sleep in a noisy, shitty service station. Come on, what could be better? Erm, a hotel?
Finally, there's the toilet. Is this a joke? Are motorhome designers and manufacturers secretly pissing themselves having pulled off the prank of the century? For those who haven't experienced one of these creations this is the process...
The chemical toilet basically provides the means to not only relieve yourself without using public conveniences but also to perform Gillian Mackeith-style health checks on every traveller in the motorhome.
Yes, if you're the not-so-democratically-elected 'emptier' of this disgusting device (as is every man) you get to see, smell and even TASTE (unfortunately for me, I found 'splash backs' at the disposal points to be quite common) the faecal deposits of your entire family. It can only be described as a very shitty job.
So... on that note, if you'd like to try motorhoming and have a go at spending your next holiday in a luxurious but very smelly, slow-moving, cramped box on wheels, pm me
Happy Camping 🤪
|Disclaimer: I don't have a Hobby, nor am I selling one, nor did I write that - its been around a few years and has been published in loads of places.
It’s a fantastic van, perfect layout for a family of 4, but please read on before you buy as I want you to be sure this is something you really want. We bought it a few months ago and, as you’re about to read, discovered the motorhome life is not for us....
Basically, it will suit anyone who hasn't tried motorhoming yet and is in need of a really stressful, totally exhausting holiday experience.
Yes, you too can have a try at driving non-stop at pitifully slow speeds with the stench of a chemical toilet wafting constantly under your nose. It will do 70-80mph comfortably and if you do decide to go above 55mph you have the added entertainment value of watching the fuel needle as it moves quickly downwards while reminding you that your holiday money is fast being whittled away on diesel.
This is described elsewhere as a ‘luxury’ motorhome although in order to really feel comfortable it will help if you’re not yet fully grown and have no history of claustrophobia. Our three-year-old found it perfect.
The ingenious 'Sleep-no-More' compartments which were introduced to motorhomes in the 1970's mean you get to spend the whole night trying to get some kip. The mattresses are as soft and fluffy as our patio and, if you keep the windows closed, you can experience 'a cheap high' due to the distinct lack of oxygen.
Wait, there's more... one of the truly great things about motorhoming is you get to spend every single spare minute of your holiday packing, unpacking and repacking boxes so that everything fits... and then do it all again when you realise you left your keys, your daughter’s crayons or your wife’s shoes in the bottom box. Bizarrely, most motorhomers think this is fun. Yay!
Oh, and you'll never be bored... there's always something to fix. Whether it's the window or skylight you left open before getting on the auto-route, the door handle that your children like to swing on, or any of the million-and-one crappy little plastic fixings that were put there with the specific intention of having you contact the manufacturer for a replacement at a stupidly high price.
As you’ll see from the pictures, it has a lovely shower room/toilet and a fitted ‘kitchen’. Our daughter has a 2-foot high wooden dolls house which has a similar sized kitchen but don't let floor space put you off - this comes complete with a sink in which you can fit a whole coffee mug and a hob on which you can practice the forgotten art of 'one-pot-cooking'. The oven is immaculate as it hasn't been used – we weren't able to find an item of food that would fit.
The shower looks great doesn’t it? And if you have the physique of a broom handle it will serve you perfectly. I’ll tell you about the toilet in a minute.
Driving this thing is a one-of-a-kind experience. Have you ever driven a cement mixer? I's very similar. It is also a chiropractor’s dream. After a few hundred miles you’ll soon notice you’ve developed a painful stoop from ducking every time you drive under a bridge, hoping and praying you don’t lose your bedroom.
But of course, the biggest advantage of a motorhome is the freedom it brings and this is where they really come into their own. After driving for twelve hours to make your ferry booking, you can simply pull over in your exhausted, weary state… and sleep in a noisy, shitty service station. Come on, what could be better? Erm, a hotel?
Finally, there's the toilet. Is this a joke? Are motorhome designers and manufacturers secretly pissing themselves having pulled off the prank of the century? For those who haven't experienced one of these creations this is the process...
The chemical toilet basically provides the means to not only relieve yourself without using public conveniences but also to perform Gillian Mackeith-style health checks on every traveller in the motorhome.
Yes, if you're the not-so-democratically-elected 'emptier' of this disgusting device (as is every man) you get to see, smell and even TASTE (unfortunately for me, I found 'splash backs' at the disposal points to be quite common) the faecal deposits of your entire family. It can only be described as a very shitty job.
So... on that note, if you'd like to try motorhoming and have a go at spending your next holiday in a luxurious but very smelly, slow-moving, cramped box on wheels, pm me
Happy Camping 🤪
|Disclaimer: I don't have a Hobby, nor am I selling one, nor did I write that - its been around a few years and has been published in loads of places.
