About Us
We’re Rotten John and Kylie — one American, one Australian, both semi-domesticated. We sold the house, sold the boat, and traded one set of engines (a Robalo with twin Yamahas) for another: a 40-foot diesel-belching Class A motorhome we now call home.
John (the “Rotten” one) grew up on Long Island punk, bolted at 17 to join the Army for five years, drifted back home, and then found real purpose in the Marines. After retiring in 2012, worked in academia for a while until emphysema started rewriting the plan. So now the plan is: live while we still can.
Kylie (the bush-born, hair-cutting Aussie who agreed to this whole thing) spent years turning heads as a top-tier stylist. She's the pragmatic half of this duo, except when she isn’t.
Meet the Mayhem Makers
Our misadventures wouldn’t be complete without Hippy and Bennie, two rescue dogs as wonderfully screwed-up as we are.
Hippy: The over-friendly nose-in-your-mouth enthusiast who believes he’s a ferocious beast when leashed but is really a giant baby. He thinks every human is an old friend and every dog a worthy adversary, until he remembers he’s scared of loud noises.
Bennie: The shy one with Cushing’s disease and a disturbing obsession with rolling in other dogs’… well, you get the picture. Bennie is our low-key survivor who sticks close and knows how to sniff out the best (and worst) smells on the road.
They roll with us everywhere, including two pet trailers hitched to our bikes because no one gets left behind on this wild ride.
The Mayhem Makers (in Living Color)
With time suddenly more valuable than money, we made the call: retire early, sell everything, and travel while we still can. No more waiting. No more wishing. Just open roads, narrow campgrounds, and the distant sound of something in the RV rattling loose.
We picked up a 2011 Forest River Berkshire 390QS in late 2024, did some DIY renovations (equal parts creativity and questionable decisions), and moved in full-time in June 2025. The house is gone. The ties are cut. There’s no going back… which honestly suits us fine.
What You’ll Find Here
- Stories from the road; the glorious, the ridiculous, and the repair-heavy
- Photos from scenic overlooks and under the RV
- Gear that works, gear that doesn't, and gear we regret owning
- Musings on freedom, mortality, and emptying the black tank
- Plenty of sarcasm, lots of profanity, and zero apologies
Trip Map
Follow the chaos in real time. This map shows our route, dates, and stops from Florida to the Southwest and beyond.
On the Road
Forest Lake is gorgeous, our bed is not. We limp in, the gearbox cracks, and I commit crimes against fasteners until a proper replacement shows up. Dogs nap. We wine. Chaos continues.
Grandfather, Wine, and Sphincter-Tightening Roads
A quiet stretch in Lenoir turned into an adventure; Grandfather Mountain’s narrow roads, sphincter-clenching switchbacks, swinging bridges, and a surprise winery stop. Toss in some wildlife, wine flights, and near-death mountain driving and you’ve got the full picture.
A “down day” in Canon, GA turned into mead tastings, good conversation, two bottles to-go, and a nap that reset the soul—headache included.
Our first attempt at the Swamp Rabbit Trail nearly broke me. Kylie cruised, I wheezed, and lunch saved the day. The return trip proved I needed more than lungs and stubbornness, I needed electricity. Enter the Pedego City Commuter Platinum, and suddenly the Doodle Trail with the dogs became not just possible, but fun.
Greasy Goose and the Road North
From Red Rooster farm life to Lake Tobesofkee sunrises, Benny adds goose shit to his 'rolled in" resume while Wanda proves she can climb hills like a champ.
A quiet morning walk along Dona Bay turns into a front-row seat at nature’s breakfast buffet. Dragonflies versus insects, with Rotten John cheering on the predator for once.
A “preventative upgrade” that spiraled into frozen compressors, leaks, shipping delays, and a schedule hanging by a thread. Chaos, but louder and hotter.
Benny Bunghole: The Aftermath
Although Benny survived his pancreatitis siege, his sphincter has yet to regain its former glory. Every morning we now play an Easter egg hunt, searching for cold little turd nuggets that plop out as he sleeps. Not exactly the prize you want to step on before coffee.
Lessons Learned and a Personal Hell
The maiden long-haul tow went well, until a cargo door flew open on I-75, the sun cranked itself to “oven,” and Benny unleashed the five-day poopocalypse. This one’s not for the squeamish.
Invasion of the Broccoli Flies
Peace was restored, until broccoli triggered a full-on fly apocalypse. Towel combat, bug spray warfare, and a final ban on hot cruciferous vegetables.
The AC died. The fridge died. The floor rotted. It rained. But we didn't kill each other. Read how our first week on the road went straight to hell, and why it was still kinda awesome.
What Fuels the Road Trip?
Sure, Wanda (our 40-foot beast) runs on diesel, but the Mayhem Makers? We run on music. It’s the soundtrack that keeps us rolling through flatlands, up mountain passes, and into whatever chaos waits at the next campground. Some days it’s punk rock, some days it’s yacht rock, and sometimes it’s just whatever keeps us from strangling each other on the road. This playlist is the real fuel behind Mayhem in 40 Feet.
Why Mayhem in 40 Feet?
Because that’s exactly what this is. A moving, groaning, barking, questionably stable attempt to squeeze as much life as we can into what time we’ve got with laughter, foul language, beer, and maybe a few roadside repairs along the way.
This is our chaos. You’re welcome to ride along.