When I was a college student, my net worth at any given time fluctuated. But it typically hovered between five and seven dollars. This led to developing a taste for such culinary staples as ramen noodles, spaghetti, and ketchup-covered cardboard. But for a special night on the town, I’d go to my favorite “Mexican” (and I use the term loosely) restaurant: Taco Bell. Utilizing some coupons, I could manage to purchase three tacos and a drink for less than two dollars.

But the Bell’s head chef was crafty. He was always unveiling a tempting new, yet vastly more expensive, dish. This concoction would boast an exciting name, like the legendary Grande Double Decker Gordita Cheesarito Crunch Supreme. It would be advertised everywhere throughout the restaurant, often on huge posters featuring talking chihuahuas. Its price might even approach the three-dollar stratophere.

Sometimes curiosity would get the best of me. I would splurge and try one of these relatively costly meals. Invariably my reaction was the same — because all of these entrees were composed of the EXACT SAME INGREDIENTS! The SAME lettuce, beans, cheese, and “meat” (again, I use the term loosely) were packed into the SAME taco shells. In the end, I felt like a sucker for getting the expensive meal, which was little more than a shameless repackaging of obligatory cheap taco ingredients — but had to begrudgingly respect the inventiveness of Taco Bell’s marketing wizards.

There’s an analogy here with RVs. All RVs toss together the same basic ingredients. You get a bed, a bathroom, a couch, and a kitchen wrapped together in the shell of your choice. But these core ingredients get cooked up in an amazing variety of ways.

And here’s where my Mexican analogy falls apart like a soggy flour tortilla. Because when it comes to RVs, there are substantive differences between ingredients. While Taco Bell may shovel the same government-issued cheese into every menu item, there’s no denying the difference between formica and granite, or between plastic and stainless steel. There are some real differences that are worth extra cash; the question is whether they are worth it to you.

It wasn’t so long ago that Kristy and I were wading through the confusing menu of RV choices, debating which to purchase. For us, our Airstream was a Burrito Supreme — a solid, classic choice that was guaranteed to satisfy. But that doesn’t mean we weren’t tempted by the newfangled chalupas on the other side.