The Lurid World of Vintage RV Decals
Ten years ago I helped a friend move from Las Vegas to Chicago. We took I-40 through Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, and Arkansas, then we hooked left. I remember little of the trip but for the morning light in New Mexico — unspeakably gorgeous — and the motel in Oklahoma City where the night manager was watching hardcore porn while we checked in. (“Uh-oh, you watch any more of that and I’m gonna hafta charge ya,” he said, turning the TV away from us.) I honestly don’t recall where I picked up these RV window decals; I think it was in a gas station in Missouri. Unimportant now. What matters is that I’ve got them and Oh. My.
Every time I look at these I feel like I should apologize to Down-Home Folk, though honestly, the idea of resting my immense Hobbit feet under a kind old tree with a jug of double-X has its appeal to me.
According to the card that came with most of these decals, we have New Jersey-based company Impko to thank for these. I know very little about the company or its history. I wish I were still editing Monkey Goggles; I bet regular MG contributor Kirk Demerais could tell me all there is to know about Impko, up to and including exactly what kind of “surprise package” you got for sending in four plastic bags.
I can’t deny it: I love the look of these. The pinup girls are particularly fetching:
Oh, New Jersey, you’ve never looked so happy:
This last one is not an Impko decal, which may explain why the arrow is pointed the wrong way.
Pretty sure Leif Erikson and Christopher Columbus didn’t sail east to get here.