Let's Go, Jane!

Things took a sharp turn this week as I realized that “phase 0” was unnecessary and I needed to get on with the main build. After leaving the campground last week, I drove for about an hour and decided to find another campground to spend the night. The first place I looked up had a 3-night minimum, the second one was fully booked, but the third one seemed perfect. “Peace River Campground,” that sounds lovely. On the website they offered primitive spots (no water or electrical hookups) for a reasonable fee. Sign me up!

Peace River Campground is anything but peaceful. It turns out that this particular campground is a haven for ATV enthusiasts. It looks like the surface of the moon, covered in what they call “sugar sand.” Forced to stay somewhat central, lest I get stuck in the sand with my front wheel drive van, I sat with my sliding door open and watched the four-wheelers swarm around me, like bees around a flower. The sound of their engines grated on my nerves. The rules stated that they could continue until 10 PM. There was no Wi-Fi and no cell service at this campground. After two hours, I heard myself saying “I hate it here.” I got behind the wheel and drove back to Carey’s driveway. 

Florida is as foreign to me as Malaysia was. The roadkill is huge snakes. There are monster trucks and prison work camps and MAGA Winnebagos. I was starting to feel really unsettled about this new lifestyle. It wasn’t just the campground, it was the realization that this is my new normal. The feeling reminded me of last August in Amsterdam, at the start of five straight months of travel. Of being at the beginning of a new chapter, knowing that this was expected to last for a while. I am choosing once again to push myself out of my comfort zone, but that doesn’t mean that it’s easy.

It was time for a reset. After a good night’s rest, I moved everything out of the van and into an empty bedroom where I have been camped out all week. I am still learning how much water I use and how much pantry and refrigerator space I’ll need. I’ve made a few simple meals with my camping stove and air fryer. Between a week in the van and a week pared down to a single bedroom, I am developing a routine and figuring out how this will go.

My primary skill building area this week has been woodworking. I learned firsthand why they say “measure twice, cut once.” One of the first boards I cut from a sheet of plywood got slightly wider from one end to the other due to a miscalculation. I learned the difference between countersink and counterbore (one has sloped sides, the other has a flat bottom). I learned that a single part, in this case some machine screws, can delay a project for days. Luckily there are enough projects that I can hop around from one to the next. My progress so far has been anything but linear.

Some days I set out to do one project and then end up getting sidetracked by several other things until it’s the end of the day and the original project remains unfinished. In order to frame the ceiling I needed to remove the factory mounted light fixture. Concerned about being confronted with bare wires, I decided to disconnect the battery first. As long as I’m disconnecting the battery, I may as well install the swivel seat, so I don’t accidentally set off the airbag when unplugging the wires under the seat. In the end, disconnecting the light fixture simply involved unplugging it.

Moving out of the van after only a week was the right move. As much as it was fun to play house, I need real progress toward finishing my tiny home on wheels. As of yesterday, I have a finished subfloor and a framed ceiling. This week I will frame the walls, insulate, and map the wiring before closing everything up. It feels like real movement—slow and imperfect, but forward. 

Yesterday my parents celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary. Sixty years of choosing to stay, to adjust, to keep building something together. I’m not building a marriage, but I am building a life. And like anything meant to last, it won’t come together in a weekend.