As I write this, I’m just minutes past a most monumental event: I removed the propane tank from the front of the trailer. Oh yeah. I went there.
Why is this so monumental? I bought The Tiny nearly two years ago and I have never, ever, ever used propane as a fuel source. I camp at campgrounds with electrical power, and everything that I’m supposed to use propane for in the trailer—cooking on the two-burner stove, and heating with the furnace—can all be done better with electricity. I cook outside with various electrical appliances. And I heat the trailer with either the Cool Cat heat pump (very powerful), or a small electric heater. As my goal is to “chase 70,” as in moving where the climate is most temperate any time of year, heating is not usually an issue. And I always camp where there is electricity. Always.
Still, I have carried around a propane tank for nearly two years. A family member used the inside stove during a road trip 18 months ago, so I know everything works. But I don’t use the propane, and I probably never will. Still, that tank sat in what is known as “the bucket” on the tongue of the trailer, right next to the marine battery. (See the first time I looked into the bucket . . . and lived to write about it.)
Not only have I never used propane in my trailer, but I also never, ever considered getting rid of the tank. Why? Why? Why?
So many factors come to mind. First off, the family member who used the propane on the road trip loves propane, and is a massive fan of propane. In their mind, propane is one of the best power sources ever invented. Earlier in life, I looked to this family member as a fountain of wisdom. Whatever they did or thought was gospel. I was so self-negating with so much self-loathing that I didn’t think for myself. So if they love propane . . . well, ’nuff said.
And when it comes to family stuff, I used to just accept our common traits: We drink too much. We eat too much. We have many resentments. We’re rednecks. We’re not creative. We’re not alternative.
Also, when it comes to trailers or any other human-made thing, I turn my power over to whoever designed it. If they thought it should have a propane tank, then by god it should have a propane tank. It’s the tyranny of the built. I lacked faith in my own needs, my own ability to design my own environment. I lacked faith in my inalienable right to use the space taken up by the propane tank for other items I’d like to store there.
That tyranny of the built has slowly ceased to control me in the 16 months I’ve been on the road. It started with getting rid of the massive original table that came with the T@B (I left it by a dumpster at a campground along the American River), and continued by having a platform made to cover the unused stove burners. Recently I took five of the original dinette cushions that are not needed for my configuration and removed and threw away the foam inside and folded the covers up and stowed them for the next owner. Someday even they may end up next to a dumpster.
Still, the propane tank remained. The idea to remove it came the other day when I was watching YouTube videos made by other full-time RVers. A guy mentioned that he removed his propane tank because he never used propane in his rig. And I’m like: What? Is it even legal to remove your tank?
Then yesterday I watched a video about a guy taking his black tank out of a nearly new and expensive Fifth Wheel because he was putting in a composting toilet. After all, if you’re not carrying around a big slopping mess of toilet waste (poop), you really don’t need a black tank. The boldness of that modification blew my mind.
And so it occurred to me that I, too, could eliminate this thing from my life that is not serving me. I already did it with the anger, and the drinking, and the overeating. Why not the propane tank?
So earlier this morning, on my way out to walk the dog, I lifted the lid of the bucket and gave the tank a pull to see how easy it would be to remove. It didn’t budge. For a few hours I considered who I would call for advice and permission to do this radical act. Eventually I googled “remove propane tank from T@B trailer” and I found this handy one-minute video by the makers of my trailer on how to disconnect the tank. Yes, it only took one minute for a very slow talker to explain and show it.
A few minutes later, I was out there changing my life. All I needed to do was unscrew the connector and lift out the tank. The connector knob was stuck when I tried to turn it by hand. It has not been turned for at least two years. I put on gloves and tried it again. No luck. I sprayed it with WD-40. Still no luck. Finally I got out a persuader (hammer) and gave it a few taps. It immediately started to turn.
I pulled the connector away from the tank and lifted the tank out. Victory!!!! I’ll wait until the cover of darkness and set the tank by the dumpster. Surely someone in camp will be happy for whatever amount of propane is still in there.
Then I stood and admired my new storage space. In my micro-living lifestyle, this is a big chunk of real estate. The bucket has no bottom, so I’ll need to go buy a bucket or crate to fit in there for storage. My mind flooded with the items I want to store: water hoses, power cords, wheel chalks, leveling blocks. All of these are items used only outside. So I’ve never enjoyed putting them inside the trailer or the vehicle. With this new storage space bonanza, the outside stuff can stay where it belongs, in the bucket.
I’m off to shop for my crate. I’m moving camp tomorrow, and I want to use my new space when I pack up. Each time I move camp, there is a reckoning with my possessions. Why am I carrying this or that item, and is it worthy to continue on the journey? I’m beyond elated to have my new space. I’m beyond happy to leave behind what no longer serves me and leave it next to the dumpster. I’m hoping this attitude of letting go, of “dropping the rock,” stays with me for the rest of my life.
P.S. Don’t worry. I’ll post a picture when I configure and pack my newfound storage area. You can count on it.