One Month of Van Life: Is the Journey Already Over?
The past few weeks have been a roller coaster of emotions. I wanted the next blog post I wrote to be about picking up my van, getting an adventure or two under my belt, and all of the wild, crazy, beautiful emotions that would come with adjusting to this next phase in my life. This post is still about all of that, even if everything looks a lot different than I thought it would.
Boone, North Carolina. I’m not sure I could have picked a better place to get my van built; I simply wish I’d spent more time there so I could have explored more during the build. I’ve said it before—this place reminds me of my time in New Zealand. The mountains are stunning, and everything feels pristine and untouched. The Airbnb I picked for my trip to go pick up the van was the coziest, cutest tiny cabin. My favorite part was the sunsets.
Driving away in the van was surreal. This was at least a year-long journey from the time I decided I wanted to pursue this life, and I’d finally “arrived” (but really, it was just the start). I spent one more night in Boone, parked on top of a mountain—exactly where I wanted to be. That night, for my first meal in the van, I reheated some pizza I’d picked up from a food truck outside Appalachian Mountain Brewery the day before. When I visited AMB, I decided their honeydew honeysuckle wheat might be my new favorite beer, but unfortunately I didn’t think to pick up any to go, so instead I had some red wine with my pizza to celebrate.
The wind was ferocious that night. It made me slightly nervous how much it shook the van, but soon enough, it rocked me to sleep. I’ve never slept better, and I woke up the next morning to the sound of rain on the roof, and I’ve always loved the sound of rain on a tin roof. The only thing that could have made it better was if my dogs had been with me, but I left them with family since it was such a whirlwind trip with lots of moving parts, and I didn’t want their first time in the van to be hectic.
That morning, I headed up to Northern Virginia to see friends one more time since I knew I wouldn’t be back on the east coast for almost a year. It was a beautiful trip, but also fateful. Leaving a gathering with friends, I ended up in what seemed like a minor accident at the time, but ultimately resulted in some significant damage to the van.
Initially, it just looked cosmetic. I was able to drive it down to Texas and got it scheduled to take to a body shop the week between Christmas and New Year’s. They thought they’d just have to replace the front bumper and grill (roughly a one week job), but after taking off the damaged parts, they discovered buckling in my rails (which, to explain to those who, like me, aren’t car people, are a part of the frame, and a pretty big deal). It was explained to me that it was a massive job that would need to be done at a Mercedes-certified body shop with a much bigger frame machine. It remains to be determined whether the rails need to be replaced, but either way the van has to be taken apart to either be put on a frame machine so the buckling can be straightened, or to replace the rails entirely.
They told me it could take up to 75 days, and the earliest they can get me in is 1/24/2022.
The image I had of this life was shattered. I knew living nomadically would come with its challenges. Any kind of adventure has obstacles, but what if you feel like you haven’t even had the chance to start your adventure? I knew going into this, in the back of my mind, any kind of vehicle issue would leave me without a home. But that was “worst case scenario” and not something you can fully mentally prepare for until it happens. I’ve had some really low lows—not my lowest in life, surely, but since all of this happened, I’ve experienced so many doubts about this decision.
Do I regret it, though? Absolutely not. It may have felt like my adventure hadn’t even started when this happened, but it had. There’s no clear beginning to any adventure other than the moment we’re born. Every path, and every life, is an adventure. I’ve learned so much, and while I’m struggling with the idea of not having my own space for that amount of time, I’m fortunate this happened when I could be with family, and not halfway to Alaska.
I’d rather live through struggles and feel the darkest emotions than go through the motions of a complacent life. I’m in a better place now than I was six months or a year ago. I’m living passionately, and I’m fully alive. I’ll continue to have my ups and downs as I go through this process, but I’m handling it, and I’m strong enough, and it will just make me stronger and better prepared to handle the road ahead.
Through this experience, I’ve realized more fully just how lucky I am to have the people I have in my life. As contradictory as it seems, I knew starting this solo, independent journey would lead to even more connection with others—both those already in my life, and people I’ve yet to meet. It’s done exactly that.
