Quick Take
- Narration: David Colacci reads the email format with natural warmth and the easy cadence of someone recounting a trip to a friend, which suits the epistolary structure perfectly.
- Themes: Middle-age reinvention through outdoor adventure, the intimacy of marriage on the road, America’s public lands as living geography
- Mood: Warm, unhurried, and genuinely funny in places, the audio equivalent of a very good travel slideshow
- Verdict: A reliable companion for anyone who loves national parks, road trips, or simply wants to spend eleven hours with a couple who are good at noticing things.
I tend to be skeptical of the phrase “laugh-out-loud funny” when it appears in travel memoir reviews because it is almost always aspirational rather than descriptive. But I started Dear Bob and Sue: Season 3 on a Sunday afternoon drive to visit family and found myself doing something I was not expecting: actually laughing out loud in my car at a story about an RV trying to navigate an Arizona campsite. That put me on notice that this series had earned its reputation honestly.
Matt Smith and his wife Karen have built their Dear Bob and Sue series around a conceit that sounds thin on paper but works beautifully in practice. The books are structured as a series of emails written to their friends, Bob and Sue, documenting their outdoor adventures across America’s national parks and public lands. Season 3, the third book in the series, follows them through the western United States, including their first time RVing through Arizona and a hike along the trail that Klondike Gold Rush prospectors took in Alaska. David Colacci narrates, and Tantor Audio released this edition in November 2019. This is also a free audiobook available through Audible membership.
The Email Format as a Listening Advantage
The epistolary structure does something specific in audio that it might not do as effectively on the page. Each email functions as a self-contained episode, with its own comic or emotional arc, before handing off to the next location and the next set of observations. Colacci’s performance leans into that structure by treating each entry as a fresh communication rather than part of a continuous narration. The result is a listening rhythm that accommodates interruption naturally. If you set it down and come back a day later, you re-enter at the next email rather than struggling to reconstruct where you were in a complex narrative. For commuters or casual listeners this is a real practical advantage.
The tone of the emails is also specific in a way that the genre description “travel memoir” doesn’t quite capture. Smith writes with what several reviewers describe as irreverence, meaning the observations are candid, often self-deprecating, and periodically sharp about the ways that traveling reveals who you actually are under pressure. The moment when the RV proves far more complicated than expected is not glossed over for the sake of an encouraging narrative. It is rendered with the specificity of someone who was genuinely humbled by the experience and finds that funny in retrospect.
What Matt and Karen Know About Parks
One reviewer described using the Dear Bob and Sue books as an actual travel guide, which the author notes is not the intended purpose but an understandable outcome. The books contain enough practical and observational detail about the parks they visit that a reader planning a trip to the same locations would come away with useful information: what the trail conditions are actually like, what to watch for, which park experiences exceeded expectations and which had more modest rewards. Season 3 focuses on lesser-known parks and national monuments alongside revisits to some favorites, which gives listeners exposure to corners of the public lands system that typical national parks content doesn’t reach.
Smith’s perspective as a middle-aged couple navigating these environments is also more relatable than the adventure-athlete register that dominates outdoor content. These are not people setting speed records or doing anything that requires unusual physical preparation. They are people who hike at a reasonable pace, notice what is around them, and talk to each other about it. The accessibility of that framing is one of the series’ most reliable virtues. Multiple reviewers mention being inspired to actually visit parks after finishing the books, which is a specific kind of recommendation that counts for more than general praise.
David Colacci in the Driver’s Seat
Colacci has a large catalog of audiobook credits across multiple genres, and his ease with the material here reflects that experience. The humor in Smith’s writing depends on timing, particularly in the anecdotes where the punchline comes from a specific observation about Karen’s reaction to something, or from the gap between Matt’s expectations and the reality of a situation. Colacci does not oversell these moments. He trusts the writing to carry the comedy and focuses on keeping the warmth consistent, which is the right call for a book that works primarily through accumulated good feeling rather than through any single standout moment.
The eleven-hour runtime across Season 3 is comfortable for the format. The email structure means the pacing never drags in the way that some travel memoirs do when they are organized around longer narrative stretches. There is always another location, another observation, another thing that went differently than planned.
Who Should Listen and Who Might Not Connect
Listen if you have any affection for national parks, road trips, or the idea of a couple navigating middle age through outdoor adventure. The audience for this book extends well beyond dedicated hikers: reviewers repeatedly note that you do not need to be an outdoors person to enjoy the books, just someone who responds to the pleasure of good company and honest observation. It also works well as a comfort listen for anyone who wants eleven hours of content that is warm without being saccharine.
Skip if you are looking for deep wilderness content or adventure with genuine physical stakes. This series occupies the lighter end of the outdoor memoir spectrum, which is not a criticism but is worth naming. If you want something more technical about the parks themselves, or more physically demanding in its narrative, this is not the entry point for that. But if you want to feel like you are along for the trip with people who are genuinely good company, Season 3 delivers that reliably.
Frequently Asked Questions
Do you need to have listened to the earlier Dear Bob and Sue seasons before starting Season 3?
No. Each season is designed to stand independently. While there is continuity in the characters and the series format, Season 3 does not require familiarity with the earlier volumes to be enjoyed on its own terms.
How much does the RV content in Season 3 overlap with what the first two books covered?
Season 3 introduces RV travel for the first time in the series, which is a new element. The couple hits the road in an RV through Arizona, so listeners who have followed the earlier books will find that angle adds fresh territory to the format.
Is this book genuinely useful as a travel guide for western national parks, or just entertaining?
Reviewers consistently describe using the books as informal travel guides. The park-by-park observations include enough detail about trails, conditions, and what the actual experience was like that listeners planning visits to the same areas will come away with useful context, though the books are not organized as guidebooks.
What is the Alaska section about, and does it require hiking experience to appreciate?
Matt and Karen hike the trail that Klondike Gold Rush prospectors took during their Alaska visit. The book covers the experience through Smith’s characteristically accessible and self-deprecating lens, so no special hiking background is needed to follow or enjoy the section.
