RV Black Tank – When The Shit Gets Real

This was it. This was the day I did my first black tank dump. Images of horror filled my head as I pictured Robin Williams from the movie RV covered from head to toe in green shit slime as everyone looked on from the comfort of their camp chairs spread in an arc for the best viewing experience. I vowed this would not be me.

I ran through my inventory of virgin sewer pipes and connectors. No need for hose spreaders, no unusual attachments, most importantly…no onlookers (I got up early for this). I unhooked the cover to the drain pipe and attached the end of the drain tube firmly in place. The sewer tank was simply a pipe coming straight out of the ground. There was an adapter for the other end of the tube so that it just sat inside the pipe, unsecured. ‘Kind of odd”, I thought. But hey, everyone else must do it that way, and they do.

The tube accordions to lengthen and the distance to the pipe was minimal so it was almost completely compressed together. There is another accordioned support that goes under the pipe. I didn’t bother taking the plastic piece that holds it together off and stretching it under the hose. I just placed it under the middle part and figured that would be enough.

I looked around to make sure no one was looking. Coast was clear. I looked at the handle for the black tank like Indiana Jones gazing at the crystal skull. One wrong move and it was over.

Just a little pull on the handle. A little trickle formed.

All I could hear was the kid from RV yelling, “Let ‘er rip!” So I did. Pulled that bad boy wide open.

BIG

FUCKING

MISTAKE

For just a moment I heard a massive rush, like a tidal wave hitting shore. Then I watched in horror as the collapsed accordion tube sprang open, the space between the support and the RV collapsing onto the ground and creating a chain reaction as, in the blink of an eye, the rest of the hose expanded to its full, unaccordioned length. And then, when it reached the attachment gently resting on top of the sewer pipe, my worst RV nightmare came to life.

The attachment exploded from the end of the pipe like Old Faithful. The tube reached unimaginable heights as its death venom began spewing in every direction, twisting and turning.

I crawfished backwards, belly up, on my hands and feet, covering 100 yards in 3/10ths of a second, discovering a skill I never knew I had. Luckily, the venom narrowly missed me.

I looked around. I was all alone. My pride was severely injured, but with no witnesses it was not a mortal injury.

There is but one saving grace. My rig has two black tanks. I chose to start with the tank for the washing machine. My campsite was not covered in green sludge, just my ego.

I quietly moved the hose and attachments over to the real tank, fully supporting the hose, and caressed that handle like a Fabergè egg. I drained the real black tank like a seasoned pro, aside from the tail firmly planted between my legs…