There is a time to eat sorbet and frolic in fields and a time to put your head down and work, a season of dreaming and a time when visions are made manifest. I have been quite conscious of holding the big picture while making many small steps, week by week and month by month, incrementally plodding along to impact the broader view and vision I’ve been holding in my head for a year.
And this past week, a huge piece to that picture has arrived: THE VAN. Oh, thank God, the van. I got a van! I can finally stop starting and ending sentences with “when I get my van.”
I will soon be living in it full-time.
Let me preface all of this by saying this is one big experiment, not just this portion but my life since 2018. Going on the road without a home was an experiment. Going on the road with a day job was an experiment. And the transition to doing that in a van will also be done through trial and error.
Despite many people choosing to live nomadically before me and all their recommendations online, if there’s one thing I’ve learned, no two stories are the same. No two vans, no two travelers.
I guess the whole purpose of living this way is to customize your life to fit your needs (and wants), so here I am, adding my two cents and my story—and I will be reporting back on the progress and you are welcome along for the ride.
THE EMOTIONS
Just after buying the van, I had one of those mini panic moments at some point in the night—lying in bed, half awake, half asleep, that other state. It swooped in and took hold of my mind: “I bought a van. I’m really doing this.” The good kind of fear, though, a flash of it. The kind that signals big change that pushes you past your comfort zone, that excitement that sometimes stirs so wild, it feels like panic—probably because of how infrequently we feel it. How often do we take leaps and make the big changes ourselves, rather than waiting to encounter them? I knew in that moment that everything was about to be different for me, but in the next, I knew it was time.
I can’t wait to see all the places I will park it, though I am still getting the hang of driving it.
I am not used to being so high up—and so visible. I feel like everyone sees me. When I am behind a car at a stoplight, I am able to see everything inside their car, which is also very strange. Driving over bridges, I can see views of rivers I hadn’t seen by car (you’d think just that bit of added height wouldn’t make much of a difference, but it does). I also have not mastered parking yet. Or the mirrors (it freaks me out a bit to not have a rearview mirror, but I’m told I’ll get used to it).
It feels like I’m carrying my home. That is the best way I can explain the feeling of driving it down the highway.
It also kind of feels like riding a horse who doesn’t know me yet. And I don’t know her. Or him? I’ve been lovingly referring to it as my “Dream Baby.”
THE SPECS
I got a Ford Transit Cargo 250, which, from what I understand after a year of researching, should be powerful enough to haul a home on wheels.
It’s a medium roof—so I can stand! But people taller than 6’ won’t be able to (sorry in advance).
It’s white. I was hell bent on not getting a white van, but colors were hard to find, and I’m reminded of something my Southern Arizona friends said: white vans stay cooler in the summer (they are RVers and have given me many tips like this one—and they know a thing or two about staying cool in the heat).
It is not built out. It’s an empty shell (although it does have some shelves). Because I am living on the road in part to heal from CIRS, I did not want to buy a van with a sink in it and risk water damage, and every already-built van I found had a sink. You know, because people want sinks. I am not handy in any way—like, I needed help putting my license plate on, so, uh, yeh. This is not going to be a Pinterest van … but it’s a big upgrade from living out of a Prius hatchback. I am happy living in it with nothing but a rug and my camping pad.
But I am adding some essentials. I am putting screens on both doors and will probably build a table of some sort. Maybe a bed frame? Storage space? Lockbox? I am in no rush. I will start living in it soon and just need some of the critical elements, i.e., screens for fresh air and a workspace. I also have an outdoor sink and a power station, plus a solar panel, so there’s my makeshift water and electric. I got a very basic composting toilet (apparently “hemp litter” is good for this—and also for cat litter boxes) and a Verizon jetpack, so wherever I have cell service, I’ll be able to connect to the internet and work.
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