Who Are We?
We are a family of five — Scott, Alanna, Zander, Liam, and Noa — from small town Ontario, eager to try something new.
We've done a couple road trips as a family: we took a Passat station wagon to South Carolina in 2016 and a tiny Chevy Sonic to Ottawa in 2018. Both were great experiences, but they lacked a certain hippie vibe I've been longing for since I was in high school.
As long as I can remember, I've dreamed of owning a Volkswagen camper van. Nothing is more beautiful to me (and nothing is further from my grasp). The pretty penny a mint VW goes for is far beyond what I can manage, and though the idea of selling everything I own in order to afford one does have a romantic appeal, the logical side of my brain says that I can create a similar experience without abandoning my whole dream or draining my whole bank account.
Years ago, before vanlife was even a trending Instagram tag, I can remember driving home with my husband late one night and blurting out, "I want to live in a van. I want to sell everything and live in a van."
"Like Shameless?" my husband asked, his hand on my thigh as I drove.
"What?"
"The tv show."
"They don't live in a van. You mean poor and miserable? Life in a van would not be poor and miserable. I think it would be the most fun we've ever had."
I want that freedom.
"I would live in a van and I'd do it shamelessly. I want us to live wherever we park."
We gazed out at the empty highway and the fields on either side were lit up with a kind of magical blue light — though we couldn't see the moon through the clouds. [And, could you capture that light, it would possibly fetch enough fortune to purchase a really nice van!]
"What if, right now, this road was leading anywhere you wanted," he said. "Where would we park tonight?"
"New Orleans," I told him. Without hesitation.
"Yeah. Waking up in New Orleans. That'd be pretty great."
"I want to live on a commune, too," I said. "Just for a year. Just to give it a go."
"I don't think you mean that."
"Yes, I do. Beautiful, earthy people, barefoot drum circles, and community gardens. We'd park our van there..."
Dreams, no matter how silly, are the things that keep us grounded even though, by their very nature, they make us want to fly. And the moment we stop dreaming is the moment we stop living.
As long as I can remember, I've dreamed of owning a Volkswagen camper van. Nothing is more beautiful to me (and nothing is further from my grasp). The pretty penny a mint VW goes for is far beyond what I can manage, and though the idea of selling everything I own in order to afford one does have a romantic appeal, the logical side of my brain says that I can create a similar experience without abandoning my whole dream or draining my whole bank account.
Years ago, before vanlife was even a trending Instagram tag, I can remember driving home with my husband late one night and blurting out, "I want to live in a van. I want to sell everything and live in a van."
"Like Shameless?" my husband asked, his hand on my thigh as I drove.
"What?"
"The tv show."
"They don't live in a van. You mean poor and miserable? Life in a van would not be poor and miserable. I think it would be the most fun we've ever had."
I want that freedom.
I want the road.
I want the world.
[Of course, all of this is made entirely difficult because I also have
children to parent BUT sometimes, dreaming out loud helps you know
yourself and right then I KNEW I wanted to someday be a grey-haired hippie,
exploring the country with the windows rolled down, Joni Mitchell on
the radio, drinking coffee brewed in a pot on a hotplate at a rest-stop
parking lot]
"I would live in a van and I'd do it shamelessly. I want us to live wherever we park."
We gazed out at the empty highway and the fields on either side were lit up with a kind of magical blue light — though we couldn't see the moon through the clouds. [And, could you capture that light, it would possibly fetch enough fortune to purchase a really nice van!]
"What if, right now, this road was leading anywhere you wanted," he said. "Where would we park tonight?"
"New Orleans," I told him. Without hesitation.
"Yeah. Waking up in New Orleans. That'd be pretty great."
"I want to live on a commune, too," I said. "Just for a year. Just to give it a go."
"I don't think you mean that."
"Yes, I do. Beautiful, earthy people, barefoot drum circles, and community gardens. We'd park our van there..."
-----------
Dreams, no matter how silly, are the things that keep us grounded even though, by their very nature, they make us want to fly. And the moment we stop dreaming is the moment we stop living.
And I don't know about you, but I'm kind of banking on living forever, which means I have all the time in the world to try out this van idea. And lucky for my whole family, I'm taking them along with me!
