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."