My children baulk at peppers, even though I try to sneak them into many meals.

"What is this green nonsense? Peppers? Ew. Mooooom!"

When I decided to try my hand at cheese steak sandwiches it was with the full knowledge that "the kids are going to hate this!"

What a happy surprise to find they actually LOVED them - even with the peppers and mushrooms. In fact, they requested it again the next time we took Pearl out for a weekend. I call that a solid win!



Ingredients:

1 lb thinly sliced steak — I choose whatever is on sale!
1 sweet onion
1 green pepper (add a red one too if you want some colour)
1 package sliced mushrooms
salt & pepper
Italian Cheese Blend: Provolone, Asiago, and Mozzarella
Butter
Crusty Buns

Instructions: 

• sauteé chopped onions in butter in hot skillet until soft
• add chopped peppers and mushrooms
• add steak and cook to desired 'doneness' - allow steak juices to flavour veggies
• salt & pepper to taste
• transport cooked meat & veggies to bowl - cover to keep warm
• butter sliced buns and put butter-side down on skillet to toast
• sprinkle toasted buns with cheese mixture 
• add meat & veggie toppings
• serve warm

(this post contains Amazon associate links and any purchases made upon clicking through this link will put a little cash into our gas money jar)

I'd forgotten the French press. 🤦‍♀️

Sometimes you need a break and sometimes you can find that calm escape you've been dreaming about just a short distance down the road.


I searched sites within two hours of us, but decided on one that was less than twenty minutes away. Why? Because all I wanted was a place under the trees where I could listen to water, read a book, ignore my to-do list, and just soak up the invigorating feeling of doing absolutely nothing. You don't have to drive any real distance to find a place like that — and in a happy turn of events, our site was cheaper than the usual fee because they'd just switched to off-season rates. Yay!

(We have yet to try stealth camping because we've always had the kids with us. We don't feel comfortable just parking somewhere for the night when we have to worry about keeping the kids safe. I'm not sure how people do vanlife full time with children. I suppose it takes a fully re-imagined outlook.)


Our site had river access and forest to one side. It was very private and quiet. There were lots of activities for the kids and though the bathrooms were a long walk, the grounds were beautiful so it wasn't a chore to make the hike.


We spent two restful nights, listening to the river running just beyond the back door of the van. The only real downfall of the weekend was that I forgot our French press at home and we had to drink coffee from the camp store Keurig machine. Yuck! I've ordered a new press and am eagerly awaiting it's arrival. It's become evident to me that Pearl needs her very own appliances — that way such tragedy can be avoided.

Reading a Leonard Cohen novel. Why do I love him? Read the Montreal post!

Want to know more about where we camped? Check out our review for Saugeen Springs RV Park.

Montreal is beyond gorgeous. We could have bi-passed the city on our way to the east coast, but a huge piece of my heart belongs to Leonard Cohen and it was important to me to visit his grave and pay my respects.


The Shaar Hashomayim Cemetery is in a beautiful residential area where palatial old homes stand proudly on heavily treed streets, where poetry whispers through the leaves, and stone walls hold long histories.

We parked against the curb just outside the gates, shadows casting warm shapes across Pearl. Leonard's grave is just inside and easy to spot. I was moved to see the tributes left by others, and I laid my own small stone on his grave, following the old Jewish custom like so many before me had done.


On the day his death was made public, I cried at my dining room table. I tried to explain to my children why he was so precious to me. I tried to share the reason his words have power; how when I read them I feel like I’m being seen - not just to my soul, but right to my guts. How I curled myself around his final album - the one he recorded from his death bed - the one where he was too weak to even fully sit up - and I let his pain leaks over me and I accepted it as his final love letter to me. But the thing is, there is no final. Because he is forever. Heaven may have brought his soul a beam to travel on, but I’ll stand in his stead, daring the boldness of joy in the face of mortality.

This detour added hours to our day of travel, further exacerbated by own trip downtime to see the 9-storey Cohen mural painted on the side of a Crescent Street building. Little did we know, but the Montreal Pride Parade was happening at 1pm that day. We tried to get out of town at 12:30 only to discover the street we needed to cross was blocked off for the parade. We were sent on a massive detour.

In short, our seven hour travel day turned into eleven. ELEVEN! 😳

And the roads! Oh, the roads in Montreal! Pearl worked hard there! Not only are there many hills and valleys, but the ruttyness and bumps wreaked havoc on our poor girl! Cupboard boards kept flying open, things were falling, and finally one door ripped right off the hinges - YIKES! Thankfully no one get hit in the head, but it did mean we had to make an emergency hardware store stop for some eye-hooks to try and keep the remaining doors intact.


"Vanlife!" Zander would say, every time somethings new crashed open. We kept a good sense of humour about it all. And now we're having conversations about rebuilding all the storage inside. But that's a story for another time.

Would we go back to Montreal again? OH YES! Our few hours within the city limits proved that it's a beautiful city worth a much longer perusal.

For the past five(?), six(?), seven(?) years, we've been part of the Stayner Camp worship team. Meaning we play music sets during morning and evening services for however long they book us for. It's crazy fun and it's become an important tradition for our family. We aren't paid to do this; instead, we're given free accommodations (a cabin) and free meals. It's a pretty sweet deal. This year we decided it would be the perfect opportunity to "break in the van" before hitting the road for eastern Canada.

We still took the cabin so the kids would have lots of space to spread out - plus, they'd each get their own room which has NEVER happened at camp before. We're going to be traveling pretty tight on our road trip, so there was no reason to rush that inevitability.

We got permission to park the van right by our cabin and we created a little camplife dream set up with our awning.

I never sleep well the first night away from home, but once that was under our belt I slept like a baby. We don't have fans or AC set up in the van, but all the windows can open, creating a beautiful cross breeze.

The nice thing about staying parked in the same spot for a number of days means you don't have to set up and tear down the bed every day. I know we'll have to do that when we hit the road for the east coast, but for now, we're enjoying the lazy bliss of relaxation!

—this post contains Amazon associate links—

Pearl came blessed with her original 1981 orange shag carpet. We knew we couldn't keep it clean. Sure, the red sands of PEI would blend in perfectly and Michael Kelso would think it was EVERYTHING, but...just no.

While Liam worked on cutting out the door panels with the skill saw, the others pulled up the carpet and scraped down the floor. Then, while I worked on covering the panels, they laid the new floor.

Originally we thought we'd just purchase a roll of thin vinyl, use the carpet as a template, cut one big piece of flooring, and call it done. But. When we went into our local flooring store, the shop girl convinced us what a horrible idea that was and took us into the back storeroom where we found one box of plank vinyl that we really liked the colour of.

We took her out to the van and she helped us do a quick measurement. She assured us the one box would do the job. But it would take every single piece. And we could not make a mistake because they didn't have more of that colour in stock. 😬

She gave us a quick lesson in how to apply the glue and sent us on our way with fingers crossed.

Turns out she was right. We used every single piece in that box. 37.2 square feet to be exact. Thank goodness we'd decided to keep the shag up at the front (you know, just in case Michael Kelso does ever get to see this thing 😜) or else we would never have had enough.

Flooring: Twelve Oaks-Endure Collection "Driftwood"

Adhesive: Henry 640 Vinyl Lock

Transition Piece (for where the vinyl meets the shag)

Stair Nosing (for where the vinyl butts up to the door)

$55.80 — Flooring

$10.00 — Transition piece and stair nosing

$27.04 — Adhesive

$3.59 — Spreader

It wouldn't have been terrible to travel in the van as is. There is something charming about the original decor and as someone who is in love with the vintage aesthetic, I want to be sure anything we do is a compliment to that sentiment.

The door panels were in poor shape. The veneer covering was pealing in many places and it just looked shabby. We had a picture in our mind of turning them into something really fun and special and thought this would be one low-cost way to put our own touch on the van.

You can see where the veneer is pulling away and that the panel itself is a bit chipped up. Definitely time for an upgrade!

Our only real stipulation as we went searching for fabric was that it had to have some orange. We'd decided to keep some of the original orange shag carpet in the driving section, and the exterior of the van has an orange stripe. We wanted to match that, so we took a trip to the fabric store!

Stepping into Fabricland is like stepping into another dimension. There's a whole sewing culture that we're completely unfamiliar with and our strange project...well...the woman helping us had a hard time getting her brain around what we actually needed.

When we first started wandering through the hundreds of choices, the orange drapery caught our eye because it was staring at us from its roll on the rack. Literally. "It's got eyes," Scott said. We both liked the colours and the pattern, but because it was the first thing we noticed, we continued on. We eventually settled on an outdoor fabric because we thought it would be easier to keep clean. It was an orange and white zigzag and was kind of a safe choice. (Or as safe as you can get when orange is involved.) It turned out there wasn't enough for what we needed and it took us no time at all to agree: the eyeballs win!

Of course, there aren't actually eyeballs on our fabric — but once you see something it's hard to unsee it. (Like the bathroom paneling in my childhood home. There was one knot that looked like a woman holding a baby and no matter how I tried to not see it, they were always watching me when I went in there to do my business. 😳) So whether you see eyes or not, we feel really good about our choice. I'm so glad the zigzag didn't work out. It wasn't really what I'd envisioned and I know I'd have regretted it had we gone forward. But our final choice? Whew! So happy! (I couldn't find the same pattern we chose online, but I did link up a couple other hippie-inspired options by the same company, Mill Creek, at the bottom of this post.)

Confession: we were a little surprised by the cost of the fabric and quilt batting is certainly NOT cheap either. But was it worth it for the change it brought to the interior? OH YES!

How to update your van door panels (like we did)

You Need:

• 1/4" mahogany plywood sheet
• pencil
• skill saw
• drill
• sandpaper
• quilt batting
• fabric
• sewing scissors
• spray adhesive

1. We began by removing the existing panels and using them as templates to cut out new pieces from a sheet of 1/4 inch mahogany plywood. All edges were sanded smooth so there would be no catches when we wrapped them in fabric, and holes were drilled in the same spots they appeared on the original panels.

   Using the old panels as templates for the new ones

   
   

   Cutting out the new panels

   Drilling holes to make installation easier

    
2. We lay quilt batting flat on a table, lay a template on that, and then cut out around it, leaving about an inch excess for wrapping.
3. Using a spray adhesive, we attached the batting to the front side of the template, and wrapped the excess around to the back, again attaching with spray adhesive.

   A note about spray adhesive: wear gloves! My fingers were a wreck after this project - though I was able to get all the glue off using baby oil.

4. We followed the same procedure for the fabric. We were sure to line up the straight edge of the template with the straight/factory edge of the fabric to ensure our pattern stayed straight. Spray adhesive worked wonderfully here as well. We were sure to pull the fabric as tightly against the batting as we could to achieve a clean look with crisp edges.
    
   
   
   
5. We reattached the panels. We could feel the pre-drilled holes through the fabric and so we knew where to put each screw. It was a bit of a battle to re-attach to the doors because the thickness of the fabric - especially in the corners - was hard to push through. But it was definitely worth it in the end.
   

We are so happy with how it turned out and feel like that change along has had a huge impact on the hominess inside.



Next steps?

We're installing a new floor and recovering(ish) the back seats. Ish because I'm cheating and not doing a "proper" recover. One: because I don't really know how. And two: because we need it ready for our first trial camp next week! So excited to try sleeping in this thing!

If you buy yourself a vintage vehicle, it goes without saying that you must make sure that vehicle remembers where it came from.



Every era has its own style and we all know the 80s is no exception. Slouch socks anyone? Much of my childhood was spent in the 80s, but my parents kept the radio on CBC and we didn't have a television to spit MTV into the basement, so I entered adulthood rather uneducated when it came to music. Part of Scott's role as my life partner has been to bring me up to speed — and he's done a great job of it — and while 80s music wouldn't be at the top of my list, there are some gems in there. And I refuse to take our beauty beast out on the road without a little taste of her own era.

With '81 names like Journey, AC/DC, Bob Dylan, and Joan Jett & The Blackhearts, you can bet we're going to have an all-out sing-a-long party when we hit the road. The kids will groan and beg to change it to a pop playlist (which we will accommodate from time to time; we're not monsters) but we just HAVE to break that baby in with a true taste of her roots.

When we first went to see the Roadtrek, we realized it didn't have a radio at all — at some point it had been removed and the space it once occupied covered up with duct tape.

See the duct tape in the upper right? And check out that classic steering wheel, crank windows, and orange carpet!!!

Our brains were all-van, so we didn't really think about the repercussions. Actually, there's a big part of me that thinks the idea of a radio-free trip is kind of lovely, but I know we'd miss it if we tested that theory out.

We want the ability to listen to music, podcasts, and audio books while we travel so we had some decisions to make. Do we install a new stereo system? Do the factory speakers even work or do we need new speakers too? How much are we willing to spend when we've already busted our budget with the initial purchase? What about Bluetooth?

It just so happens that last week we popped around to various local shops looking for things we didn't know we needed for the van — not to purchase, just to build a list — and we found a very cool vintage-look wall-mount Bluetooth speaker. The Victrola Wall Mounted Bluetooth Speaker with A/C Adaptor and Built-in Rechargeable Battery. I loved it right away and knew the vintage styling would blend in SO WELL with our van's dated interior. The problem was, we didn't know how well the sound would carry through a big vehicle while on the road, AND there was only one left in the store (and it was on sale). So we bought it. We will test it in the van once it's finally in our possession. If it can be heard from nose to tail, great; if not, we'll return it and come up with a new plan.*

Building a Road Trip Playlist

It's easy to create a playlist. Especially if you use an app like Spotify. Just search and add — easy peasy. Because I'm not quite awesome enough to know what songs were released or made the charts in 1981 (I know, I know, you're totally disappointed in me), I googled it and went through a few lists, pulling out the songs I actually liked or could imagine us singing along to.

You can visit the playlist by clicking here, or just listen in below. 🎧

After we made a handshake agreement with the sellers based on having a pre-safety done on the '81 Roadtrek before we fully committed, I set a number in my head and told myself if it was much more than that we would have to walk away.

Why? Because we had a budget. Because we also want to be able to afford gas and groceries when we finally hit the road.

For the week it was with the mechanic I felt like I was living on a prayer. Please please please please please please please let it work out!

When he finally called, we sat across the dining room table from each other, Scott's phone on speaker resting between us as the mechanic shared what he'd discovered. He walked us through what the van needed to safety. Then he quoted a number. It was $70 more than the number I had set in my head.

Do we walk away?

It was like a proposal. Say yes, and you're committing to a life change. Say no, and you have nothing but the experience of tough decision-making to propel you forward without the man (van!) of your dreams.


Scott asked the mechanic if he thought the engine was good. "I'd jump in that thing right now and drive it straight across the country as is!"

Good enough!

How do I justify going past my number? Easy. I wanted it. I believed it was meant for us. And I felt sure things would work out in our favour, whether we spent a little more or not. We'd looked at so many and learned quickly that the new certification laws in Ontario mean that you're going to have to put out a pretty penny no matter what you're buying. So, we could abandon this thing of beauty we were both fully in love with, go search for something else that wouldn't be ready for our August trip and would still cost a lot to certify, OR we could remind ourselves this is an investment in our future and our family and that the major cost of the safety (new tires) would have to be faced down the road anyway if not now.

None of this happened in a real conversation as we sat on the phone with the mechanic. Scott looked at me, showed me a thumbs up and a thumbs down. I returned with a thumbs up.

"Okay," he said to the phone. "Go ahead with the safety!"

So just like that, we made a huge decision, and we felt good about it. A little nervous, but good.

When we got a call on Tuesday (a whole week earlier than it was supposed to be ready!) we dropped everything and jumped in the car to go pick it up.


The thrill of knowing it was ours was palpable between us. Everything seemed to go our way:

• the final charge for the safety (including an appraisal, which is required by the tax man for vehicles over 20 years old) was $300 less than we were quoted — which brought us well under that number I'd set for us.
• the woman working the counter at the Service Ontario office in Wiarton was the most cheerful, patient, and helpful person - which is not the normal reception you expect when entering one of these where-joy-goes-to-die departments. 
• we realized the van has cruise control — bonus!
• and we discovered that it's already set up with beds for four — another huge surprise!

Seeing that vintage beauty parked in our driveway, waiting for us to put our own touches on her interior, is so exciting. I can't wait to get into it, clean it, and make it our own!

This is real talk here. Can a vanlifer be over thirty and never wear a bikini? If I say I'm living that #vanlife dream and I'm not wearing a size zero while I do it, will I break the internet? Welcome to the experiment friends. I'm taking this test on the road!

If you've taken any time to explore the #VanLife hashtag on Instagram, your screen will be full of beautiful, woodsy women in tiny bikinis, their beachy hair piled up with a stylish scarf, their skin as smooth as a six-year-old, their van so clean you could lick the walls, their partner so fit and adorable you can't help but sigh. Is this real life? We're supposed to believe it is. And I don't know how to feel about that.


Fact: I will turn forty this year.
Fact: I couldn't fit a size zero over my knees if I my life depended on it.

I'm old, you guys. And you're not going to find pictures of a perfectly toned butt cupped in a skimpy bikini bottom as I gaze out over the ocean this August. Nope. No Way. If that's what you want, go follow some shiny account and clear me from your browser history.

I want to use this platform as a way to share what I'm learning along the way, not to show you what great shape I'm (not) in. Nothing against those beautiful women who use their beach-ready glow to promote their lifestyle — God bless them and their young bodies that Just Won't Quit — I'm just not that girl. I want my message to be that you can chase after a dream no matter what your age is.

So, you're inspired by those gorgeous sunset pictures taken out the back of a van? Great! You're sixty-five and ready to try life on the road? GREAT!

Vanlife should be ageless. Just like it should be okay to be bikini-less.

What do you think? Do you follow #vanlife journeys because of the beautiful people, or because of the lifestyle. Inquiring minds want to know!

When John Lennon penned the words of the famous song, All You Need is Love, I believe he was talking about how there is nothing new under the sun and as long as you have love, life can't be boring. When John Travolta dressed up like an overweight angel and sang it to Andie MacDowell in the back of an old station wagon, I believe he was reminding the passengers in that car that there's no use fussing and fighting. [Don't know why John Lennon and John Travolta mean something to me? Pop over and read about my various obsessions in Why Shopping for a Van Will Strengthen Your Relationship.]

To think that all you need is love is a little naive, but it is a beautiful sentiment.

Love isn't something you can quantify. There isn't a mathematical formula to know if you have enough. You just know.

And if a van is right for you, you will just know.


And yes. You can fall in love with a van.

I think there are three measures of attraction:

1. Physical
2. Emotional
3. Spiritual

Physical: Does that sexy beast make your heart sing? Does the curve of her roof line cause you to suck in your breath? Does the creak of her hinges send shivers down your spine? Does the purr of her engine put a little gas in your tank? Yes? Then you're crushing something fierce!

Emotional: Does she listen to your hopes? Does she support the weight of your dreams? Do you trust that she'll go the distance and stand by you in good times and bad? Do you want to build a closer connection? Are you moved to touch her seams and pat her bumper and whisper secrets into her vents and ask her to the fantasy suite? Yes? Welcome to the hot bed of lust! 

Spiritual: Is she the Diana to your Anne with an 'e'? Do you want to tattoo your mark upon her with destination bumper stickers? Are you already searching for the perfect name to grace the Van-Highness? Is she the sigh you release in a moment of pure bliss? Does she feel like home? Yes? Well, my friend, you've done it. You're in love!

When we pulled into the driveway of the couple who were selling it, that 1981 Roadtrek sat there waiting for us, all vintage and glorious and at first, all I could manage was a Betty Boop, "Oh!"

A switch flipped the moment I saw it. Like when Jim Carrey was The Mask and he AHOOGAED Cameron Diaz. She was beautiful and I felt an instant connection.

I shrugged off the orange shag carpet. I ignored the white sateen (or whatever it was) on the ceiling. I didn't care that the radio was missing from the dashboard. Love is blind.

She whispered to me as I searched her compartments: oh, the adventures we will have. She giggled as I took the wheel and tried her out along the country road. You are mine, I whispered back.


Love is blind, but you can't let it be stupid. We knew she was listed for a price that tickled the borderline of our budget, but we also knew we'd looked at countless vans and none of them had spoken our name as much as she did.

"I want it," I said.

"Me too," Scott said.


So we made a handshake deal with the seller after he agreed to letting us have a pre-safety preformed. Anxiety settled in as we reminisced about all the hope we'd poured into the ambulance, only to have those hopes destroyed after the pre-safety. We looked at each other like two people with first date jitters.

"I feel good about this one," Scott said.

"Me too."

The moment the idea of purchasing a van was on the table, it became a full-time obsession. Losing the ambulance was a kick to the shin, but recognizing that the dream didn't die there was so exciting and so much fun. I suddenly saw vans everywhere. I went from never noticing them (unless they were a Volkswagen 😍) to feeling like there were more vans on the road than anything else.


We owned a minivan. I hated it. I despised it with the heat of a million suns. It was ugly and it was stupid and all those years ago, when I told my husband I wanted to live in a van someday, I should have added the caveat: but I will never own a minivan. Serves me right for not speaking my truth. I've grown so much since then. And a few weeks ago, when we dropped it off at the wreckers and picked up our $250.00, I was happier than a clam at a lobster bake. (I don't even know what that metaphor means, but sometimes I just let my fingers do the talking here...😜) So, when I say van, please don't picture a soccer mom!

We were driving somewhere very soon after the ambulance loss, and I was seeing vans everywhere. I should have gotten whiplash from all the times I swung around in my seat to check out the camper sitting out in a farmers field or tucked behind a shop.

"Are you seeing vans everywhere now?" my husband asked me when we locked eyes after both staring after a conversion van with a For Sale sign in the windshield.

"Yes! Everywhere!"

It's such a strange phenomenon. We've had a rental Jeep twice — and if you've never driven a Jeep before, drop everything and run to the nearest dealership for a test drive — they are ridiculously fun. I'd never really noticed Jeeps before then, but suddenly, they were everywhere. And I was part of a community. Did you know Jeep owners all wave to each other? Like bikers, but with less leather. It's kind of awesome.

And when we bought our little red Chevy Sonic? I suddenly saw them everywhere.

So weird.

So that's why the world was suddenly overrun with vans. Like that scene in World War Z where there isn't a wall, there are only zombies. Except it's a road not a wall, and it's vans not zombies. Yeah. You get it.

"Stop the car!!!"

It happened every time we drove anywhere. It was our love song.

We have had shared goals since the beginning of our relationship. It began with our incessant search for John Travolta movies. (Keep your opinions to yourself. JT owns a piece of my heart and I stand by my man!)

We scoured thrift stores and markets and closing Blockbusters until I owned every single movie. Except Moment by Moment. John Travolta. Lily Tomlin. "A lonely socialite and a young drifter enter into a May-December romance." I mean, come on!  Couldn't find that one anywhere! Do you know where I can get it????

Finding Beatle records was next. Obsessed.

Then it was Toy Story figures. (You should see the collection we built for our kids!)

We've always had something that we're tracking down together. Shared goals, no matter how silly or frivolous, keep relationships fresh and exciting. It's a nerdy kind of excitement, but that's our sweet spot! Working together for something is rewarding and fun.

"STOP THE CAR!!!"

We were stopping to look at RV's, buses, short buses, cargo vans, conversion vans, vans in parking lots that we'd sneak up on and peek through the windows of whether they were for sale or not. Yeah. We were all in.

The kids moaned and groaned and looked around to make sure their friends weren't seeing their crazy parents climbing through ditches to get to the extended Dodge in the field by the auto wreckers.

When a 1981 Roadtrek came up in our online searches, our curiosity was piqued. We'd just gone to see a vintage RV because long conversations had us coming to realize we couldn't manage a family of five in something as small as a standard conversion van. But an RV? It's just not what I saw myself in.

The one we visited was cool. It was already outfitted with four bunks and a double bed. Perfect. It had lots of room and lots of seat belt. Great.

But it wasn't a van. I was not in love.

But the Roadtrek. I had a good feeling about that one.

The sun breaks past the horizon in a slow blaze of glory; not Bon Jovi rock 'n' roll (because that should be saved for when the highway's zipping by beneath you) - more like an easy hallelujah, a yoga-ish, granola fed, give peace a chance kind of glory. You're somewhere quiet. The kids are still sleeping in their bunks and you're cozied up to your lover, sipping a French press from ceramic, back doors open to reveal the breathtaking vista where you laid down anchor by shifting into Park the night before. Early fog curls up from the dewy ground and you are home...

It takes a certain kind of person to embrace the whole #VanLife dream. You either get it or you don't. I get it. And not in a naive, look-at-the-pretty-Instagram-post, kind of way. I get it in a gritty, from-the-top-of-my-head-to-the-soles-of-my-feet kind of way. Some of us are just born with a little wanderlust. Some of us live for bare feet and loose schedules and see-ya-when-I-see-ya.

I've got hippie in my blood, and I've always said I was born into the wrong decade.



No, I don't want to lock myself in and hot box it until I can't see straight. I don't want dreadlocks, and I certainly have no plans to go vegan. But I do want to simplify. I want to slow down. And even if I'm not a place in my life (or my parenting) where I can do a full-time van existence, I feel happy with the compromise we've landed at.

We will be fair-weather vanlifers. For now.

For years I've said my retirement plan involves living in a van. Sell everything. Hit the road. Home is where you park it, and all that jazz. Maybe one of the kids will buy the ol' homestead and keep it in the family (just like we bought it from my parents eight years ago) — and we'll pop around to park in the driveway and visit the grandkids in the summer. Wintertime? We'll be bombing around the beaches of Mexico, getting our sun on!

Everything happens for a reason and I am a strong believer in the 'all things work together for good' mantra. That's how I got through the whole decommissioned ambulance debacle. And that's how I chose to get through the next hard thing that was thrown at us.

My husband lost his job.

Scott gave seventeen years of his life to a mental health facility for teenagers. A year ago, it amalgamated with Sick Kids in Toronto; slow changes ensued, ultimately resulting in the closure of a program that bettered the world and changed lives. Scott thought he would retire there. It feels like all we've known. And to have it taken away left us spinning and uncertain about the future.

Thankfully, in recognition of his many years of service, he was given a generous severance, which removed some of the urgency to immediately find a new job.

We sat down and made a list of priorities and on that list, right there between get a tune-up done on the Sonic and pump the septic tank, I wrote 'BUY A VAN'.

When our first van plan (the ambulance) fell through, we both believed it was because something better was out there waiting for us. Our initial budget had been very modest: $2000 all in. But now we found ourselves with access to a little more cash. We could expand our budget and our search. We could think about what we really wanted, and not settle for less.

It feels strange to look at the silver-lining of job loss, but it really is there if you're willing to look. If a door closes, open a window.

And that's exactly what we did.

By this time we had a clearer idea of what was out there. We knew the different styles and had a better understanding of what we really wanted.

WHAT WE HAD TO HAVE:

• seats for 5
• room to sleep 5
• storage

WHAT I REALLY WANTED:

• a sink

WHAT WE WOULD LIKE BUT WASN'T A DEAL BREAKER:

• a toilet
• enough height to stand up in
• solar power
• air conditioning 
• stove top

We set ourselves a loose budget of $6000. This wouldn't leave us 'vehicle poor' and there was enough room to go up a little if we fell in love. Not naive love like the ambulance, but real HOLY COW YOU ARE MY FUTURE love.

We approached it as an investment in our family. We have one year left with our eldest before he leaves for University. If we want this to be a family adventure, it has to happen now!

So there it is. Budget set, priorities agreed upon, and the search is on!

I was obsessed with the idea of that ambulance. It had seemed so serendipitous, reminiscing about those old make-out days then standing in the back of an ambulance, imagining being seventeen again... It was like we'd come full circle, twenty-one years later. What a story it would have made! So perfect, I was sure it would all work out.


It's silly to get so caught up in an idea. God bless our eldest son who kept telling me not to put all my hopes on the line. He's wise beyond his years. I'm a romantic fool and don't let naysayers knock me down, but when the call from the mechanic came, I felt the wind go out of my sails and I slumped in my chair like a deflated balloon.

When Scott got his first apartment, he shared it with a dude who lied a lot — but there was one thing he told the truth about: his family had an old ambulance and they were going to let him drive it to pick up crappy furniture from the Value Village in Cambridge. Fun!


Ambulances are not romantic. They are metal boxes. But when you're seventeen years old and a boy who's grown up enough to have a scratchy beard wants to kiss you in said metal box, you go along for the ride! 🥰

There was a metal table (stretcher?) but that's all that was left of the original interior fittings; so, while the liar and his girl rode up front, the kissing bandit and I snogged in the back. On a metal table. Of course, the joke was on us, because on the way home, we switched: we drove while the other couple hid in the back. With the 'new' couch. I'm sure their ambulance experience was much softer than ours. They got soft rock. We got heavy metal. 

When we began talking about a trip to Eastern Canada with extended family, purchasing a travel vehicle didn't occur to us. We were on board with the idea and discussed needing to get a roof storage system in order to take our little Sonic all the way to PEI.

It wasn't until Scott discussed the trip plans with his co-workers and someone said, "Hey, you should buy Norma's ambulance," that our vanlife journey really began.

The ambulance had been converted into a little camper with a double bed in the back and huge storage beneath. A young couple had set it up to be their sleeping quarters while tree planting in northern Ontario. It had only a driver's seat and a passenger seat, but upon seeing it, we were confident we could set it up to accommodate our family.

And they only wanted $1500 for it — a steal! We planned to use our tax return money to cover the cost of purchasing, certifying, and licensing - and then the leftover to do whatever modifications it needed for our family.

The couple who owned it hitchhiked the eight hours from Ottawa to clean it out and meet with us. Because the diesel engine had sat unused all winter we had to borrow a charger from a neighbouring farm and wait a while until it would start, but once it did... oh, that sweet growling purr.



My uncle owns a shop not far from where the ambulance had been parked, so we made arrangements with him to drop it off for a pre-safety, feeling wonderfully confident that it would need very little before we could take it into our possession.

We took the trip down Blue Mountain in the pouring rain, Scott driving the beast with Liam in the passenger seat, and me following along behind, visions of summertime and renovations dancing in my head.

"Don't get your hopes too high," Zander told me — forever the logical one, as if his seventeen years have given him wisdom he hasn't really earned. An old soul, that one.

"I know, I know," I told him. "But look at it. It's so fun!"



"I just want to take it home right now!" Scott said after he'd parked it at the shop.

I felt the same way.

We made the drive home, and then a week of obsession began. I spent hours doing drawings, trying to design the best way to seat and sleep five. I lost sleep over it because ideas were swirling through my brain.

So that was it. My heart was set.

They say you shouldn't fall in love with the first person you see, and while that's great advice, I'm a hopeless romantic. Heavy metal, remember?! 😆 


WHAT HAPPENED NEXT?...