Camping World Closes: Is It a Sign of Recession?

In a shocking twist that has left RV enthusiasts and local workers reeling, Camping World’s Escanaba outpost in Michigan’s rugged Upper Peninsula has slammed its doors shut without a whisper of warning. What was once a bustling hub for outdoor adventurers—brimming with gleaming RVs, essential gear, and expert repairs—now stands as a ghostly reminder of economic fragility. Employees, buoyed by a surge in summer sales, arrived expecting perhaps a pat on the back from corporate brass.

Instead, they were virtually handed pink slips, their livelihoods evaporating in an instant. This abrupt shutdown isn’t just a local tragedy; it could be the ominous crack in the facade of America’s economy, hinting at a looming recession that threatens to engulf industries far beyond the open road.

The saga of this dealership traces back to humble roots, evolving from a cherished family-run operation into a corporate giant’s fleeting experiment. For decades, it thrived under the name Hilltop RV, founded by a dedicated couple who built a loyal following among the region’s campers and explorers. In 2021, amid promises of expansion and prosperity, it was snapped up by Camping World.

The company’s charismatic CEO, Marcus Lemonis, heralded the move as a golden opportunity, touting Michigan’s vibrant market for RV lovers and vowing to bring premium services right to the doorstep of Upper Peninsula residents. “This is about fulfilling dreams and fueling adventures,” he essentially proclaimed at the time. Yet, in a cruel irony, those dreams have now been dashed after just six short years under the Camping World banner.

What makes this closure particularly gut-wrenching is the timing. Insiders whisper that business had been booming—summers alive with eager buyers snapping up vehicles and accessories, winters a quiet prelude to the seasonal rush.

RVers from nearby fairgrounds flocked there for tune-ups, turning the lot into a vibrant community staple. Unlike other recent closures mired in bureaucratic battles, this one has no scapegoat in local red tape. City officials expressed genuine sorrow, with one administrator simply calling it “heartbreaking” to watch such a vital business vanish.

For now, a proverbial skeleton crew lingers until late September, racing to complete outstanding repairs and clear out the inventory.

After that? The lights go out for good. Customers are metaphorically directed to a laminated apology on the door, urging them to trek over 100 miles south to Green Bay, Wisconsin, for their needs. Imagine the frustration: a simple part run turning into a half-day ordeal, or a critical fix delayed by distance. For the tight-knit RV community in this remote corner of Michigan, it’s not just inconvenient—it’s a profound loss, stripping away convenience and choice when adventure calls.

But zoom out, and this single shuttering takes on a far more sinister hue. Could Camping World’s retreat from Escanaba be the proverbial canary in the coal mine, signaling a massive economic slowdown on the horizon?

RV sales, after all, are a luxury tethered to disposable income and consumer confidence. When families tighten belts amid rising costs—think fuel prices, stubborn inflation, and whispers of job insecurity—big-ticket items like recreational vehicles are the first to gather dust. This closure comes amid broader storm clouds: reports of slumping retail figures, layoffs rippling through discretionary sectors, and a cooling in outdoor recreation spending that once seemed recession-proof post-pandemic.

Experts warn this might just be the tip of the iceberg. If a powerhouse like Camping World is pulling back from markets it once chased aggressively, what does that say about the health of the economy at large?

We could be witnessing the early tremors of a downturn, where specialty retailers crumble first, dragging down suppliers, manufacturers, and even tourism hotspots reliant on road-trippers. In Michigan alone, the ripple effects could hit hard—lost jobs fueling local unemployment, vacant storefronts blighting communities, and a chill on consumer spending that spreads like wildfire.

As one economist put it, “When the RVs stop rolling, it’s often because the economy’s wheels are coming off.”

In these uncertain times, the Escanaba closure serves as a stark wake-up call. For RV owners staring at an empty lot where help once stood, and for the nation watching economic indicators flicker red, the question looms larger than ever: Is this the beginning of the end, or just a bump in the road? Only time will tell, but the signs are impossible to ignore.