I tried Turo, a car share company that connects vehicle owners and renters - here's why I'll never use a traditional car rental again

How it works

How much does Turo cost?

Turo might not work for everyone on every occasion, but it can (and in my case tends to) be a more affordable, accommodating, and downright fun experience compared with any of the rental agencies.

Looking two weeks out at rentals in San Francisco, for example, Turo's rental prices start at a $21-a-day 2008 Hyundai Accent (insurance runs just shy of $20 per day), while an entry-level rental at Hertz in San Francisco starts at $59 for a Chevrolet Spark "or similar" (and you're not guaranteed the vehicle you select at checkout) before getting to insurance.

The real fun of Turo, though is in the $100 range. While you'll end up with a Buick Regal "or similar" at Hertz, you'll land a Tesla Model 3 for 83 cents less. Now, I'm no snob or anything, but given the choice, and the level of service (pickup at your door), which would you rather drive? Of course, those who have a little money to burn could also pick up a Ferrari F430 ($499/day), or a Tesla Model X ($299/day), but the insurance on both will run you upwards of $100 per day (and as always, you'll want insurance).

Signing up is a breeze. Like anything, plug in your email address or sign up through your Facebook or Google account, put up a few personal details (don't worry, you don't need to enter your Social Security number or provide a copy of your birth certificate), and you'll receive a confirmation email to prove your identity and eligibility as a driver (license required).

Searching for a car is exactly like hunting for a vacation rental on Airbnb. Enter the name of the place you're going, your scheduled dates, and either select the type of car you're after or sift through the 850-plus unique makes and models within Turo's database of over 350,000 vehicles.

Of course, you'll have better luck finding your dream car in more metropolitan areas, at least for now.

Car pickups vary from owner to owner, but if you're lucky, the vehicle will be brought right to you. You can also filter for this option, which I highly recommend.

Upon receiving the car, make sure to do the whole once around: Kick the tires; note any scratches, dents, and previous damages; and check the gas.

After that, and showing your license, the car is yours.

The general protocol is to top up the gas (or diesel) to match where the needle was on the gauge when you picked it up before returning the car.

Give the car another pass with the owner or the representative present, hand over the keys, and you're all set. The owner might offer to meet you at the airport before your flight, or drop you off somewhere, but this is case by case, and you'll usually have to arrange that ahead of time. Reviews, as with anything in the sharing economy, are encouraged (and the owner ought to do the same for you).

Picking up "Gretel," a 1986 Volkswagen Westfalia

Having lived in a camper van in a past life, I'm all too eager to jump at the chance to relive it whenever I can.

Turo first approached me in 2016 when their concept was relatively new. I was skeptical, and rightfully so. The brand had sorted out insurance coverage for up to $1 million, so it was safe from that standpoint, as far as I could tell. But what about the fitness of the vehicles listed on the platform? Was someone thoroughly inspecting these vehicles for safety's sake?

Maybe not so much in the beginning. The first vehicle I was to rent was a green VW Vanagon that looked alright in the photos, but when I arrived in Marietta, Georgia, to retrieve it, I found it parked in front of a head shop as a sort of ornament, beyond worse for wear and tear.

Eager to still go on the trip I'd planned, I stepped in, only to notice that I could see straight through the floorboard to the asphalt. It also smelled of cat urine. I called Turo, whose representative profusely apologized before promising reimbursement for my travel, and another rental at my convenience.

Now, that might sound horrible, and it was, but hold any judgment just yet. This is the same sort of issue you might have found with Airbnb rentals seven or eight years ago, and Turo sided with me and provided compensation. And while Airbnb still has its fair share of problems, the service has shaken out most of those wrinkles in recent years.

So when Turo's team wrote back and suggested I rent one of Mike K.'s VW vans (at the time he was running a fleet of them), I didn't hesitate to take them up on it. Off I went to Seattle.

Before arriving in Seattle, Mike arranged to pick me up with Gretel (the stunningly pristine specimen of an automobile you see above) so I could prove my capabilities with a manual transmission. Fair enough: I certainly wouldn't entrust a classic vehicle to someone without vetting their driving skills first, either.

Granted, this is a special occurrence, and so long as you're not renting a classic vehicle with a manual transmission, you probably won't be put to the test. Further, it would be egregiously discourteous to rent something like this cherry 33-year-old VW Westfalia and use it as a tool to teach yourself to drive stick. It should go without saying that no one ought to rent (or drive) a vehicle outside of their comfort capabilities.

On another occasion, when I rented an Audi A5, there was no driving test. I was given the keys upon walking out of the terminal at the airport and off I went.

Back to Gretel in Seattle though. I drove Mike to his house, where he informed me that he was confident enough to let me roam wherever I pleased (within reason) at the helm of Gretel for a week. I did, however, have a 1,500-mile limit, and would incur further charges if I surpassed it (0.75/mile). I ended up driving a couple of hundred miles over, which was a fee of about $150 more. Over the course of a week, getting to drive the Lost Coast of Northern California and sleep in the Redwood Forest though? Worth it.

Inside was everything I can recall needing, from a sleeping bag, pillows, blankets, and sheets, down to a coffee pot, oatmeal, coffee, and kitchen cloths. He made sure I knew how to access everything, turn on the propane, and pop the top.

I may or may not have slept here

I dare you to try to find a hotel room on a cliff above the Pacific for less than $200 a night. You might luck out, but add the cost of a car rental to that. (Keep in mind that a Honda Accord will not exactly get you here.)

The fun thing about a hotel on wheels is you can camp just about anywhere. Be quiet, respectful (that means to use proper facilities and receptacles for everything), and you really won't have any problems.

I may or may not have woken up to this

First dibs on surfing and salmon fishing. Not bad for a hotel room on wheels, and nobody but the gulls and the seals to wake me up. I'll take it.

A much appreciated, if modest, complimentary breakfast

If this is what puts me beside world-class salmon rivers and uncrowded surf breaks, you can keep your primped white linens and fluffy pain au chocolat.

Still, Mike did not leave me hanging, and I was anything but underequipped. Everything I needed short of imagination was tidily preloaded — and clean as a whistle.

Between cold, damp trips to the salmon hole, I was more than grateful to have a place to thaw out and dry up

"Catch anything?" I asked an elder fisherman in a cowboy hat, who was on his way downstream back toward the road. He replied: "Nothing up there but loneliness and despair, son."

Indeed, I was outwitted by the great Chinook salmon once more, but so it goes. At least I had somewhere nearby to get warm and dry.

Pro tip: Boil a little water with the stove on high and you'll heat up pretty quickly. Some of these campers even come with a small propane-powered heater.

The road to Key West

If you've ever picked up a car rental from the airport, surely you've burst a blood vessel or two. Long lines, faulty reservation systems, or just a long walk from the terminal can (and has) put a lot of us over the edge.

Save yourself the stress, and maybe the loss of your cool, and try Turo out at the airport. Arrange your car (at least 24 hours ahead of time to be safe), input your flight time, your ETA at arrivals, and your rental will be parked out front with either the vehicle's owner or a representative on their behalf (there are a few small agencies using Turo, too). Show them your driver's license, and off you go.

Details like such as whether or not you'll fill the gas tank before dropping it off are case by case, and you can opt in or out when reserving the vehicle. Everything else is pretty straightforward, and any tolls you incur will be billed to you by the vehicle's owner afterward.

The bottom line

Even if you're not the adventurous type, Turo offers a convenience you don't get with any of the big rental companies, and that makes all the difference.

Whether you're heading out to the beach, up into the mountains, straight to a hotel room, or just looking for something a little spiffier or more functional (and fun) than a Chevy Malibu, it's plainly and simply the easiest way to rent a car.

Pros: More affordable and convenient than most (if not all) vehicle rental agencies

Cons: Like Airbnb, quality control is tough (but improving)