Zen, And The Art of Van Builds

10/9/23

Englewood, CO

It occurred to me today, while thinking more about this strange little paradise I stumbled into, that the Traveller’s Curse I spoke about might contradict the name I’ve given this blog.

When I set out, I thought “House Hunting” would be a fitting title, after the song from Adventure Time, which finds Finn and Jake traveling Ooo in search of a new place to live. The problem is, I liked the idea of traveling and searching, but I don’t think I ever sought to find a permanent home.

People ask me all the time where I’m from, and I have no idea what to say. My family lives in the Seattle area, and that’s where my mail is sent. But I’ve spent most of my adult life in Southern California, in and around Los Angeles. I can’t think of one single place in the world that feels like a home to me (which might be me trying to romanticize myself as a drifter). The only place that comes close was my A-Frame cabin in the woods on the property of YMCA Camp Oaks in Big Bear, CA. But someone else lives there now.

Instead, I think of home as the place where the people I love are. In my brain there’s a map of the country with little glowing circles indicating where the people I love, and who love me, are (the circles are purple). There are a lot of circles close to Seattle, a lot in SoCal, a couple in Utah, Arizona, and Oregon, and some that move around. So in a way, I am house hunting in the sense that I am looking for ways to add to that map.

But it occurred to me this morning that I don’t want to stay here. I prefer to be the cowboy that rides into town and rides right on out.

This morning I engaged in one of my new favorite ways to pass the time. I got high on caffeine, put some music on, and thought about how much I love my friends. Between the three, I find myself overwhelmed with the notion that everything will be just fine.

I have no idea what street I ended up walking to, but on one corner was, somehow, two army surplus stores. While designed to appeal to the military enthusiast, or budding mercenary, they contain nearly everything an adventure hero could ever dream of. Knives, sturdy gloves, ropes, cowboy boots, goggles and desert scarves, MREs, pouches, axes, and, most notably, a bota bag (to drink wine in a way that is more portable, eclectic, and perhaps even socially acceptable).

Often times, the gear can be the catalyst for the adventure, as opposed to the other way around. I stood in front of combat vests for a long time, thinking of a way I could justify owning one. A replacement for my fanny pack perhaps? Easy access to snacks? In an industry that values being ultra light, I value looking ultra cool, but ultra functional as well.

If there was any residual doubt about leaving Denver and venturing back into the unknown, it faded away somewhere inside the second surplus store.

From there I walked back to the house, and drove to a Whole Foods to meet someone named Phillip from Facebook marketplace to purchase some walkie talkies. Rockie Talkies, for anyone in the know. I asked him why he was selling them, and he said he doesn’t get out much now that he has another daughter, and he could use the money. I asked him how that was going, and he said it was always his dream to have kids, so it’s going really well.

Then I drove to “Flippin Vans” where Paul works, not surprisingly, flipping vans. In the shop were two giant vans, getting the full treatment. Wiring, insulation, appliances, plumbing, beds, everything. I could tell that Beeby, parked outside, was jealous. I did what I could to reassure them. But it was fun to watch, nevertheless.

They were installing these side panels in the back of the vans, like pockets in the wall. I asked what they were for and one of the shop workers, Charlie, said they were to extend the width, making it more comfortable to sleep sideways in the back. That made me especially jealous.

There’s a spectrum, when it comes to vans and other house vehicles, ranging from maximum mobility, to maximum comfort. A jeep has a lot of mobility, but not very comfortable to live out of. An RV is very comfortable to live out of, but more difficult to move. Therefore, it often depends on where you want to go.

(Indy, the dog)

Cost is also a determining factor most of the time. With a lot of money, you could have a lot of comfort and a lot of mobility. From what I’ve seen, the most popular option is the 4x4 variation of the sprinter van. But when Paul told me that a lot of their build jobs range between 5k and 50k, it made since why not everyone has that one. And, to be the sort of person who can afford that, you might not be a young, full time thrill seeker anyway.

So then you have vans like Beeby, which was designed specifically with low-cost in mind. But the interesting thing that Hannah and I have found, is that we rarely, if ever, wish we had more room. Of course everyone’s trips look a little different, but for ours, anything more extravagant than Beeby would seem like an unncesissary addition.

In the evening, I joined Paul for an evening yoga class at the rock gym, and after running from the car, getting distracted by the sunset, and being scolded for running in the gym, we go to the class right on time.

Somewhere between warrior two and the crow pose, I thought about how awful I am at yoga. I thought about all the mindfulness activities I intended to do on this trip, such as reading, drawing, walking, playing music, and yoga, and how I’ve done hardly any of it. But it occurred to me that in order for me to be good at yoga, I have to do a lot of yoga. And if I don’t enjoy doing yoga, then what’s the point of being good at it. You can’t just find joy in the end result, you have to find joy in the process.

About 30 minutes into the 60 minute class, I was not doing well. My wrist hurt from some kind of triangle pose, and my head hurt from what felt like hours of downward dog. So I stopped, and I just sat there, while the guy next to me did as many inversions as he possibly could, and I tried not to think about how lame I felt. Maybe the real mindfulness activity was tuning out what I assumed were 30 pairs of eyes looking at me give up. When, in the grand scheme of things, nothing matters less than some stranger’s opinion of me in a yoga class.

And, as it turns out, Michael, the guy doing the inversions next to me, leaned to me after the class and said “your mustache is looking stellar”. So I count it as a win.