Crunch Time

T-10 Days ’Til Liftoff

Honestly? I’m kinda-slightly-58% panicking. The van is mostly-sort-of-almost finished. Finished enough to live in, for sure, and if I’m being honest with myself I’ll probably never think it’s properly finished. There will always be some little project I want to add or spruce up.

But it’s close to being livable, with working kitchen, bed, table, and storage, and most of the construction remnants covered up and made pretty. It’s close enough that I feel pretty confident it will be ready to roll on down the road with a few days to spare before my leave-date. 

And I’m absolutely excited. Practically vibrating with joy and determination and general bubblegummy-ness. I’m also terrified. Sort of in a good way, but also in a high-strung way that’s leaving me worn out and lethargic in the middle of the day.

Somehow, in all the plans I made for the build and even in the travel plans I started drawing up, I forgot to factor in all the stuff I would need just to live in the van. I budgeted for the large quantities of plywood and insulation, the subfloor and the wiring, the appliances and the solar panels. But I forgot about storage containers to organize the two-feet-deep benches I built and bungee cords to keep things on the shelves while I’m driving; I absolutely didn’t factor in the extra sleeping pad I’d decide was necessary after waking up from a night in the van unable to turn my head to the left.

So all of a sudden the money is flying out the window, and it’s making me antsy. But it’s more than that, too. With COVID hanging around, the world is unpredicatable right now, and there’s a whole slew of new issues that come along with that. When I planned out my build, I was planning on relying on public restrooms and gym showers. Even in places where gyms are open, the showers generally aren’t, and finding an open public restroom has become a shot in the dark. I’m going to have to be really dilligent about planning ahead to make sure there’s an open restroom nearby wherever I’m staying, and I’ll probably end up staying in more developed campgrounds than I previously planned.

Besides that, there’s the question of safety. I’m going to have to be really careful about wearing my mask, washing and disinfecting everything, and avoiding “red” counties that are seeing a high number of cases per capita. I’ve also heard a lot of stories about travelers getting hate mail, even death threats, from people who think they should be quarantining.

I’ve been working on this for the last year and a half, dreaming of it for the last two. And it doesn’t look like COVID is going anywhere anytime soon. Sure, I could move into the van in my parents’ sideyard and wait until the storm passes, but what if that isn’t until next summer, or next winter? I’ve already lost years of my life to depression. I just can’t stand to sit here and waste any more of it. I plan to be as careful as I can reasonably be, because the last thing I want to do is inadvertently spread the disease. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to let this keep me from living.

I saw a comment on Instagram the other day. I can’t remember it exactly, but it was something along the lines of “Awesome. I always wanted to live during the Spanish Influenza, Great Depression, Civil Rights Movement, and the Dust Bowl. But… maybe not all at the same time.” And I think that sums up this year pretty well. We’re only six months in, and we’ve already had a taste of many of the most tragic moments in this country’s history. I feel like most of us are waiting with bated breath to see what happens next. The uncertainty can be paralyzing. I can feel it in me, threatening to stop me in my tracks, and I think the only thing that keeps me moving forward is all the things I’m working on. Getting the van together. Planning my route. Working on a new writing project. Even thinking about what I want to post on this blog. Looking forward, keeping my life on track, is keeping me going.

There’s so much to do in the ten days before I officially hit the road. A lot of it is precautionary housekeeping tasks, like writing up a will on the off chance I drive off a cliff or something. A little morbid, but probably worthwhile, just in case. I’m starting to gather up everything I’m planning on bringing and sorting it the way I plan on storing it, so I can get an idea what kind of storage containers I need to buy. I’m finalizing the first month of my journey based on the COVID maps, trying to stay away from cities (with the exception of Salt Lake City, because they actually have a pretty low rate of cases per capita at the moment and I have a really good friend from high school there who I’m dying to see).

It’s starting to come together. I’m pretty sure there’s zero chance of me actually getting everything done that I probably should, but c’est la vie. The important thing is that I’m finally doing it. So get ready, because the real adventure starts in T-10… 9…