It’s Time To Evaluate RV Bathrooms From A Committed Pooper’s Perspective

I think if there’s one thing that truly captures the majesty and luxury of an RV, camper, or motorhome, it’s the fact that such vehicles are uniquely equipped with the means to allow you to take a leisurely, comfortable, involved, unhurried bowel movement anywhere, anytime, from within the comfort of your vehicle. There’s simply no greater luxury in the automotive world; the finest Rolls-Royce Phantom, for all its elegance and refinement and status, would become a fetid, unwelcoming nightmare-box were one to take a simple, basic shit in the back seat. For want of a toilet and bathroom, the Rolls-Royce, compared to any RV so equipped, is garbage.

That’s why when I went to that big RV show in Elkhart, Indiana earlier this week, as a guest of THOR, who kindly let me check out many, many motorhomes and RVs in their Open House area, I took advantage of the opportunity to really evaluate the current state of the art regarding Motorhome, RV, and trailer bathrooms, from the perspective of a dedicated defecator.

While I tried out a lot of bathrooms in a lot of different models, I think it would be cumbersome to try and do a model-by-model breakdown, partially because there are so many damn models and the differences can be so minor and Byzantine, it just doesn’t make sense. The bathroom layouts tend to be more standard across bigger categories of vehicle, so I’ll give my reviews for the following categories: Class B, with a subclass for Sprinter-based and Ram Promaster-based; Large-Scale Rear-Engined Motorhome (usually thought of as diesel pushers, but there are gasoline ones, too); and Class C motorhomes.

There are more categories that can be done, of course, and as I get more opportunities, I will avail myself of them. But this feels like a good start.

For testing criteria, we need some metrics. I propose the following set of defecation-enthusiast-bathroom-evaluation criteria:

Physical Comfort: This covers the toilet itself, and how it feels to be perched upon it. Can you comfortably sit on this toilet for the potentially extended duration of your poop? Is there adequate room for your legs and other limbs? Can you maneuver effectively with the door closed for wiping and other hygiene purposes?

Emotional Comfort/Security: Many people only feel comfortable taking a leisurely dump within the confines of their own homes. Can this mobile setup approach that level of emotional security and comfort? Does it feel private enough, and free from both visual and auditory contact? Can you truly relax in this environment to allow your bowels to fully expunge their foul contents?

Amenities: What, in addition to the toilet, is available? Is there a sink inside the bathroom, or do you need to exit to use one? If it is a wet bathroom, how much does the toilet area affect the use of the shower, and vice-versa?

Emergency Use Viability: If you eat something that reacts violently to your system, how well will this work for worst-case defecation events? Are there grab handles? Effective flushing systems? Good soundproofing to muffle screams and other noises?

Those seem to cover the important things, right? Oh, and here was my test procedure. Initially, the plan was to eat between six to twelve fast-food burritos every three hours and use each bathroom to the fullest possible extent. Unfortunately, a group of nosy dealers happened upon me as I was attempting to execute my first test and loudly and somewhat rudely demand I cease production and threatened to call the authorities should I introduce any foreign material into their pristine black water tanks.

They then flung me out of the Class A I was in, and onto a small group of recycling bins, which made a truly alarming cacophony of sounds when I flopped onto them.

So, I revised my test procedure. Because of the small-minded, anti-science element, I decided to simply mimic the actions of a healthy bowel movement instead of actually crafting one for every toilet. So, I sat on the toilet, adjusting my body for most accurate positioning, moved, grunted, strained, and so on in the best possible approximation of the act I could manage.

Okay! On to the evaluations!

Class B, Sprinter

Class Bs are the smallest of the classes, and a very popular class right now. These may be the smallest self-propelled camping solutions to contain an actual bathroom. Currently, these are usually based on either Mercedes-Benz Sprinter vans or RAM Promaster vans. I tried both.

First, let’s try this Mercedes-Benz model, targeted at the overlanding community.

It has a small, fully enclosed wet bathroom that may be the minimum possible size for a bathroom. Here’s how I fit on the toilet, and remember, I’m a very compact person:

Okay, evaluation time:

Physical Comfort: This is tricky, mostly because of the size of the bathroom itself. It’s basically a stall shower with a toilet, and with the door closed, it is extremely difficult to fit your legs in there. I suspect many people will opt to poop in here with the door open and their legs outstretched, but that’s unacceptable unless you’re completely alone. With the door closed, I also felt I was being pushed back on the seat of the toilet to a non-optimal point for comfortable shitting. Overall, marginal.

Emotional Comfort/Security: There’s actually a very crude and simple lock on the upper part of the door that seems at first somewhat half-assed, but I think it’s actually a big benefit, because you can very easily see that it’s secure and you can see if it moves, indicating attempted entry.

This helps comfort and security a good bit. What’s less good is the uncomfortable knowledge that you’re a 1/4″ thick sheet of thin veneered particle board away from whomever else is in the van, possibly preparing something in the little kitchen area just on the other side of the door. All sounds and screams and moans are easily heard.

Amenities: There’s no sink in here, just the showerhead, which I suppose you could try to use for hand washing, but you’ll likely get soaked.

Emergency Use Viability: Better than nothing, but not ideal.

Class B, Promaster

There’s another popular Class B platform, the RAM Promaster, and I found a number of these that located the bathroom in a different area of the van: at the rear, as opposed to the middle, as in the example above. Here’s the layout:

Physical Comfort: Actually, quite good! It’s a very small area, but the space is used well, and the perpendicular to the long axis of the van setup is effective here. The slight rise the toilet is mounted on helps comfort as well, and access to the toilet paper holder is excellent, too.

Emotional Comfort/Security: The setup has its biggest faults here; even though the window is tinted black on the outside, that large window right by your head while you’re crafting a top-tier mass of waste is unsettling, at best. Yes, there is a curtain, so this issue is mitigated, but your head is right by that window, and if you’re pooping in, say, a parking lot and someone comes up to check their appearance in that mirrored rear glass, you’re going to have to deal with that mess.

Also, the door to the bathroom is essentially a thin, rigid plastic curtain, and will do very little to muffle sounds or smells or anything like that. It’s marginal.

Amenities: It’s a wet bathroom setup but it has one very clever and important amenity:

A fold-down sink, over the toilet! Very clever and well-executed. The drain system is especially clever, too.

Emergency Use Viability: I’d say adequate, save for the door thinness. But, could be far worse.

Class C

This class has a lot more room for bathroom setups, and as such layouts and designs can vary wildly. Here are a couple randomly selected samples:

In this class we start to see more luxurious, “real”-seeming bathroom designs. Above we see a common “corner” orientation of the bathroom, and below we see a more “rectangular” bathroom layout:

While the layouts vary, the general amount of space and bathroom quality is fairly consistent, so this evaluation should cover the whole class:

Physical Comfort: Quite good! These bathrooms tend to have just enough space to allow for ease of sitting, moving, and performing cleaning duties, all while being small enough to make sense in the context of the overall vehicle and being fairly cozy, too. Decor ups a level here, and there are some attractive-looking materials and designs. There are some cheesy ones, too, of course, but generally these look quite good.

Emotional Comfort/Security: These Class Cs may be the sweet spot for this; windows, if present, tend not to be in unsettling locations, door thickness and distance from the toilet is more reassuring, and the overall normal-bathroom feel is very effective for pooping comfort. Again, the size is important, as it’s just big enough to move around comfortably and small enough to feel like a safe cocoon for private pooping.

Amenities: What, in addition to the toilet, is available? Is there a sink inside the bathroom, or do you need to exit to use one? If it is a wet bathroom, how much does the toilet area affect the use of the shower, and vice-versa?

Emergency Use Viability: Definitely. This would be a welcome refuge in a time of a shitastrophe.

Diesel/Gas Pusher Motorhome

These are, of course, the most luxurious and opulent of all the motorhomes. These are like those band tour bus kinds of things, and feel absurdly decadent. I mean, look at this:

All that shiny marble and brass and chrome? It feels like a Miami Beach cosmetic dentist’s office in there. This one actually had two bathrooms! Look, here’s one:

Damn, there’s even a seat in that shower! I don’t even have that in my house, unless I drag in a folding chair, which I was made to promise to quit doing. The other one was part of a larger en suite bathroom/dressing room connected to the bedroom:

Okay, let’s evaluate:

Physical Comfort: Of course, this is at essentially near-conventional home bathroom levels of comfort. The stability and substantiality of the toilet itself I suppose isn’t up to a non-mobile toilet, but that’s nitpicking, because this is a toilet you can use at a mile-a-minute.

Emotional Comfort/Security: Okay, here’s where it gets interesting: I think these are actually a bit less emotionally secure than the Class C bathrooms, because of their larger space and how the sheer size of the whole vehicle causes motion when people enter or exit. There may be ways to mitigate this rocking motion – and I’m almost certain there must be – but while I was testing in the bathroom you see above, I did feel somewhat … exposed. The cozy security of the Class C was gone here. The experience was good, but if I’m completely honest, I’d prefer to take an involved, complex shit in a Class C.

Amenities: Everything. Whatever you need. These are for high-rollers. Oh, though I have yet to see a bidet on one of these. That feels like a huge oversight. What are we waiting for? I want a bidet!

Emergency Use Viability: Excellent. No notes.

I hope this helps! Mobile pooping is a growing area of interest to people, and it’s something everyone – no matter who you are, from an Empress to your deadbeat cousin – can appreciate. I know a lot of society is invested in pushing the bowel-related side of human life to the hidden backrooms of our experience, but when it comes to motorhomes and RVs, it’s a crucial factor, and must be confronted with open eyes and minds.

I hope you have meaningful poops, everyone.

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