As I’ve written before, on LongLongHoneymoon.com we’re committed to documenting the RV lifestyle — the good, the bad, and the ugly. So here’s a facet of RV travel we’ve never previously addressed. I suppose we could classify this job as “the ugly,” although it really isn’t particularly dirty. In truth, it’s the THOUGHT of black water that’s unappealing. Assuming you don’t make a MAJOR goof, the actual process of its removal isn’t so bad.

Along these lines, we’ve talked about dump stations — but what about dump stations that come to you? Okay, septic tank trucks are not exactly the sexiest topic in the world. But one of these days, especially if you dry camp at a rally or festival, you may find yourself in need of their services.

Think of ’em like ice cream trucks. Except instead of bringing you frozen treats, they are taking away tankfuls of filthy water. (Okay, that wasn’t a good analogy AT ALL. But wouldn’t it be nice if the septic tank truck played a little musical jingle as it tooled around the campground?)

In all of our travels, this was the first time we ever made use of a mobile septic truck. We were faced with a unique situation. Not only were we dry camping, we were doing so in the middle of a soggy, wet field. Our 39-gallon gray water tank was almost full. Ordinarily we’d just hitch our Airstream and tow it to a nearby dump station. But after considering the mud and slop surrounding SEEMORE, we decided to flag down the septic tank truck.

So, what is there to know about “the Princess”? In an egalitarian gesture, she accepts both gray and black water. Also, her rules insist that RV owners MUST be present to actually pull open their water valves. (Presumably to avoid any stray liability from potential damage to your rig.)

The Princess is actually brilliant at performing her given task. Yes, my friends, THE PRINCESS SUCKS — and I mean that as a great compliment. The septic truck suction was be much more effective than your average “let gravity do the trick” water dump. For once, I felt like our black water tank was actually empty.

What about cost? Ah yes, the pesky issue of price. We shelled out twenty bucks for this convenience. We were in an unusual predicament. We were making a public speaking appearance and wanted to appear relatively clean to our fellow campers. We paid the moula primarily so we could enjoy a couple of hot showers. In that respect, it was money well spent.