The term “camper” might mean something that you drive by itself, or something that you pull behind another vehicle, or something that you attach on top of a pickup truck. But “motorhome” is more specific, referring only to the kind that you can drive.
In the US and in the RV business, a camper is something you put on the back of a pickup, and has amenities for sleeping, cooking, etc. A camper shell is an empty shell that sits on the back of a pickup. A trailer is something that trails behind your towing vehicle, whether it’s a 5th wheel, a pop-up or other non-motorized RV.
I just typed in “camper” into Google Images and had to scroll all the way down the the 29th hit before I saw something that sits on the back of a pickup truck. The first 28 matches were either motorhomes or trailers. And Google identifies these things as “campers”. I checked dictionary.com too. They say that (apart from a person who camps) a “camper” is a trucklike vehicle, van, or trailer [emphasis mine] that is fitted or suitable for recreational camping, or a pickup truck on which a structure fitted for camping is mounted.
Granted, the state laws of Oregon define “camper” like you’re saying, something which goes on top of another vehicle (typically a pickup truck). And I would not be surprised if all the sales and service people in the RV industry follow that convention. But that’s not a distinction which the general public makes, as evidenced by dictionary.com and Google.
When you say “camper” to an average person, you would be foolish to assume they understand that you are talking exclusively about pickup campers and NOT talking about motorhomes or RV trailers. Having said that, I’m glad to see that you and I agree that “motorhome” is not simply a fancy word for an expensive camper.
Most of the motorhomes I came across in my years as an OTR driver were pulling “dinghys”, i.e. towing sedans, coupes, or SUVs. Makes sense to me because there are a lot of places where you can’t or don’t want to park a big RV.
One time I was at the fuel islands filling up when some fellows in a big RV pulled up next to me. They could NOT figure out how to pump fuel into it. Quite out of character for me, I took pity and explained to them the Master pump was the one on the driver’s side and the satellite pump was the one on the passenger side. To only pump fuel from the satellite pump, he’d still have to pull the nozzle out from the holder on the master pump and turn the master pump on. He didn’t have to pump any fuel on it, but it had to be on to activate the satellite pump.
Ah… the stories I could tell…
I guess I grew up sheltered in Alaska, because nobody ever called a trailer a camper. I guess all those long-time RV salesmen were wrong, too, along with the owner and the sales manager. Who knew?
Your getting warmer at the end. Throw out those dictionaries. In RV talk a “camper” is kind of a slander term for any motorhome not worth more than $100,000.
Google Prevost and you will see why they are not “campers”. They are kind of the Cadillac of motorhomes.
We’ve done the motorhome thing a lot. We did it all around Europe before we had children, then we’ve done it about four times with children. We just hire a motorhome as required. It’s expensive but when you take into account that otherwise we’d have to hire a car, hotel rooms, eating out for all meals etc I don’t think it’s too different.
It’s great with little kids when they are at the fussy eating, need naps, need a lot of gear sort of stage. Instead of having to find ways to feed them and places for them to nap and so on (which is hard if you are out and about seeing sights during the day) you have a home right there.
Now the children are a lot older but we just spent 10 days in a motorhome. We like the vagabondish, unscripted nature of it.
For instance we were in town A and were heading towards location B. It was evening and we didn’t really like town A but it was too far to go to get to location B that evening. If you were restricted to hotels you would have had to stay in town A or find a midway hotel, and turn up in the middle of the night with all the hassle that could involve. But for us in a motorhome we just start driving towards location B. When we get tired we pull over and sleep. No baggage to move into a room, no bookings, nuthin’. Then when we wake up breakfast is right there.
Or another thing we do if we are staying somewhere non-picturesque is wake up, throw on clothes and drive to a local beauty spot, turn the motorhome so the back picture window is looking out on the scenery, and cook breakfast.
Or another time we turned up at the camping ground of a place we had planned to stay and it turned out to be little better than a parking lot. So we just looked on line and found a website with suggested free camping spots. Half an hour later we were camped on a grassy spot beside a lake with a fire going, at no charge.
ISTM that in the US the term “camper” for the bulbous overgrown thing growing out of a pickup truck bed is pretty obsolete these days.
I can’t tell you the last time I saw a traditional cab-over camper shell on a pickup truck. But it was years ago.
Was that totally the standard term in the 1980s and before? You bet. And did it only apply to those pickup truck inserts? Yup.
But I suspect that today the term “camper” has been genericized by the public at large to mean anything not quite grandiose enough to rate the term “motorhome”.
My first image when I hear “camper” is a towed sleeper/liver. Like LSL, I don’t see many pickup camper attachments these days which is why they don’t come to mind.
I do not think of one-piece motorhomes.
I agree.
In fact, I would only use the term RV for the really big things, at least 30 feet long. I would call the smaller ones “campers”.
But I also acknowledge that “camper” is vague. I easily might use it to mean a small RV, a pop-up trailer, something like an airstream, a converted van, or a handful of other things. Being a fan of clear communication, I am likely to use a specific term instead.
I have never liked the term “camper shell”. It’s that clear communication thing again: some folks might think it means one of those campers that sits in the bed of a pickup, while what it really means is a type of cap (a shelter that covers the bed, that may or may not look a bit like a camper from the outside).
I always attributed that to different factors.
- leveling an RV can be a pain. At best it is time-consuming. So if the place where you are sleeping wasn’t designed for RVs (ie: it doesn’t have perfectly level parking space), you’d really rather not have to re-level it when you get back from wherever you drove off to.
- getting 8mpg can really put a damper on your enthusiasm to drive anywhere. When you realize that a “quick trip to McDonald’s” represents 2 gallons of fuel, you begin to wonder if maybe mustard and cheese sandwiches wouldn’t be fine for tonight.
As I understand it, a small vehicle towed behind a big RV affects the gas mileage almost not-at-all, and it gives you the freedom to make little trips to see a movie or buy groceries at 30mpg, as well as freeing you from the hassle of re-parking and re-leveling the RV everytime you get back from wherever you decided to go.
They are still quite common in Colorado. I suspect having a 4x4 truck chassis and not needing to tow a trailer on mountains roads keeps them popular.
Camper is still a bit ambiguous to me. I would call it a truck camper. A trailer is a trailer, many of them ‘pop ups’. And a motor home is pretty much just that.
A trimmed sheet of 3/4" plywood, a couple of lawn chair mattresses, and a roof box turn a Jeep Wrangler Unlimited (4 door) into a minimalist camper.
I think it’s about the people you meet and the beautiful camping locations.
I can see this as a plus, getting out and meeting people. However, it seems hollow to think that you’ll make friends with people you will likely never see again. Living in a house, we know our next-door neighbors. We have long relationships with people up and down our street. Living full-time in an RV deprives you of that. It’s kinda like the difference between a nutritious meal and a candy bar. OTOH, if you’re already living on a street where you don’t know your neighbors or you don’t get along with your neighbors, then becoming a nomad wouldn’t feel like you’re giving up anything.
Dictionaries aren’t about right and wrong. They’re about accurately recording the way average people actually use words. The fact remains that when a typical speaker of the English language says “camper”, they could be referring to a wide variety of things, including trailers and motorhomes. You may think those people are using the wrong word. Fine, that’s your opinion. But those people do exist.
We’ve done a few motorhome holidays in Scotland and love them.
We’re fans of what is rather glamerously (and misleadingly) called wild camping, which is where you find yourself a nice place to lay up for the night, off the beaten path, and set up there. We’ve done it on Islay, the Isle of Sky, the Cairngorms, all over really.
You don’t have to have any agenda and can just go where the will takes you. In the evening you lay up in some secluded little spot and get the grill on for dinner. You wake up the next morning to some gorgeous views which you get to enjoy while sitting outside, coffee in hand, grilling up some bacon and eggs. Bliss.
I say this is misleadingly named wild camping because A) it’s not allowed in many places so you have to be a little crafty to ensure you’re really out of the way and not bothering anyone and B) a lot of people who do this seem to end up in supermarket car parks. How that is a holiday I do not know.
Where I live, towns are few and far between, and motels tend to book up whenever a work crew is in the area. That means trying to book a room on the spot or a day before can be an exercise in futility (for example, yesterday I tried to book a room for a couple of weeks from now, but all the rooms in the town and it’s neighbouring community are already booked – the nearest room available is a two hour drive away, which does not interest me after a long day at work followed by a meal at a restaurant). There’s a lot to be said for simply pulling off the road into the forest or beside a lake, rather than calling and calling and calling to find a room and then still having to pull off the road into the forest or beside a lake. Appropriately sized RVs give you much more freedom, rather than tying you to an itinerary set well in advance.
I particularly enjoy exploring – taking extra time to get where I’m going so that I can check out back-roads, and go skiing, paddling, hiking and swimming along the way. Just pack along an extra tank worth of gas cans, and drive in the general direction you want to go. (Me: what state is this? Gas station attendant: “Huh?”) Try travelling about in the rockies while avoiding primary highways as much as possible and you will see some wonderful county. Being self-contained rather than relying on pre-booked motels makes this sort of travel possible.
Moose busses are popular with hunters in my region. Buy an old school bus for a few grand, pitch the seats, and use 2"x4"s and plywood to outfit it with bunks and a social/work space, cut off the walls and roof at the back and cap the opening with 2"x4"s and plywood (and a plywood door), and Bullwinkle is your bitch.
^ “…Bullwinkle is your bitch.”
You owe me a keyboard! 
(Great name for a rock band, BTW!)
Just when you thought you’d seen it all in RVs – presently for sale on ebay:
“Custom Modified Classic 2 berth Austin Mini Camper Van Caravan Trailer”
It’s an old Mini with the front wheels and suspension replaced with a tow-bar, the seats replaced with a bed, and a fridge and cooker in the boot. 