Motorhomes: does buying one to sleep at the campsite pay off?

Motorhomes: does buying one to sleep at the campsite pay off?

A family arrives at a campsite with a shiny new motorhome, parks it on the same pitch for twenty days and spends the fortnight alternating between meals, naps and a alucinación to the beach at the hottest hour. The scene repeats every August on Spain's coast, according to one forum user's observation, and raises an awkward question: does it really make sense to spend the price of a flat on a vehicle just to sit still in the same spot? The price of these contraptions, far from being a detail, is the heart of the matter.

The conversation opens with an observation about the apparent contradiction between the cost of the vehicle and the financial means of its occupants. The most common answer: **most of those motorhomes aren't bought, they're rented**. And renting competes on price with hotels and apartments, which would explain why the business works.

How much does it cost to buy a motorhome

The figures in the discussion speak for themselves. A new motorhome can run to around **70,000 euros**; a second-hand one, **58,000**. On top of that come maintenance, insurance, garage storage and a campsite night at around **30 euros**. The most repeated calculation: to recoup such an outlay you'd have to use it many days a year, not twenty.

Some argue that depreciation eases off after the first few years and that the real annual cost settles at around **3,000 euros**. The pessimistic scenario starts from another premise: if you use it for two summers and then comes unemployment, separation or simple loss of interest, the hulk becomes a millstone.

Renting versus buying: the calculation almost nobody does

Renting isn't cheap either. An IVECO for four people was going for **490 euros a week** in July, and there are references to **150 euros a day** for the vehicle alone, without fuel, food or campsites. Against that, a chalet with a pool in the first half of August for **430 euros** makes the comparison look ridiculous.

The fashionable alternative among the handy is the converted campervan: a unit a few years old for **10,000 euros** plus another **6,000** for the conversion. It uses less than ten litres per hundred kilometres, lets you sleep wherever you fancy and requires no booking. The full calculation, route and nights included, yields a difference that surprises more than one person.

The buyer profile and the summer bubble

The harshest criticism targets usage: anyone who spends fifteen days parked at the same beach doesn't need a motorhome, they need an apartment. The whole point of the thing is to move around, change location every two or three days, take long routes across Europe. For that, they say, it does make sense.

Free time also comes into it. A retiree who spends two months touring northern Europe gets their money's worth; a salaried worker with twenty days of holiday, hardly. And context matters: in France there are motorhome service areas at bargain prices; in Spain, parking outside a campsite is an obstacle course.

The closing note is a disconcerting fact: a motorhome is not an investment, it's an object of enjoyment. Anyone who buys one to save money is using the wrong tool. Anyone who buys one to have sens with a bed on hand, maybe not.