This week we bought a van – a 2006 Ford Econoline with 56K miles, a tough looking roof rack, and enough space in the caboose to comfortable fit a couple of road-weary travelers and all their traveling shit.
Yes, we’ve never done this before. Yes, we understand how big of a commitment this is. 100%, absolutely, undeniably, we have no fucking idea what we’re doing.
This past week has strained our mental health to its absolute limits, as the pressure of trying to upgrade our road trip to something a bit more hospitable in the middle of it all has worn us to the core. We are tired. We are frustrated. But we’ve finally come to a place where we can let go of what we’re afraid of and focus on the fact that not knowing what comes next is the reason we started this trip in the first place.
We’ve received an outpouring of support from friends and family who are just as excited as we are to see our mobile home come to life. However, we’ve also seen a fair share of “thanks, Dad” comments out of the woodwork from people – who I can only assume are looking down on us from Mt. Pious – making sure we’ve “done our research” or “really want to live in a van” or “understood how much money it’s going to cost,” without fully realizing that, while we’ve done all these things, we see this next endeavor as a risk worth pouring ourselves into even if there is a high chance of it not working out.
Spoiler alert: I’m not a natural risk taker.
The closest thing to taking a risk in my life is firing off a triple espresso without close access to a comfortable bathroom. I’ve gone through life protecting myself from the unknown – from fear of stepping into something I wasn’t ready to handle. I think we all do to some degree. If I’ve realized one thing in the past month of living like a savage, it’s that risk is the most important thing we can introduce in our lives if we want to experience new things and grow into a better version of ourselves.
Cheesy? Yes. But, that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.
We are building a camper van and if that sounds crazy to anyone out there reading this (especially those who know us well), that’s because it is. It’s bat shit, son-of-a-bitch monkey nuts crazy and if anyone thinks we haven’t calculated the weight of what we’re getting ourselves into, rest assured this anal retentive perfectionist has surveyed all angles.
We’ve done our research, planned our attack, and as I sit here writing this we still have no fucking clue what the next few months look like. It’s a fact we’ve finally chosen to embrace, and one that should help us survive the uncertainty and realize that, while it’s a good idea to count your chickens and line up your ducks, at any time a four legged beast could emerge from the thicket and massacre them all in a horrifying cloud of blood and feathers.
Stay tuned for day 1 of “Peter, Iza, and Vanny DeVito.”