Transition

  It’s been a few weeks since I returned from Chile.  With the help of a very small storage unit, I have completely moved into my van, but I am still in the process of adjusting to it.  There are some things that are quite similar to being on the bike versus living in the van, but then there are other aspects that are so different it’s kind of a slap in the face.  

  Both demand a minimalist lifestyle—there’s no room for the frivolous.  When I started my bike ride I had way too many clothes, along with extra tools and a lot of crap that I didn’t need.  As miles became memories, so did that extra weight. During the six months of my ride, my bike slimmed down as much as I did.  One of my friends commented that the evolution of my bike was fascinating. By the end of the ride, I consolidated five bags worth of stuff into three and didn’t miss a thing.  

  I have started that process all over again with the van.  On the bike it was based off of “what am I willing to carry,” but in the van it’s “what is in my way.” I constantly shift stuff around to pop the top, make my bed, or cook on the stove.  Anything that is getting moved more than getting used needs to go, but some things have to be in there. And some of those things take up a lot of damn space. For instance, the list of tools (and spare parts) I need to resuscitate the van is much more extensive than the list needed to keep Sybil going.  I have a few ideas on how I will go about this but it will just take time.  

   Without a doubt, though, the hardest adjustment has been what to do with myself during the day.  Prepare to roll your eyes (if you didn’t already).  I have such a large amount of free time during the day that it actually feels like I have more time to think than I did when I was pedaling.  I have rediscovered old hobbies and started some new ones to occupy my mind but I do get a bit restless. One can only do so much reading, writing, and doodling throughout the day before he goes a wee bit mad, or becomes overly “chatty.”   

  My favorite adjustment is how strangers view me now.  When I was on the bike, I danced between homelessness and drifter so well that people were enchanted by the idea of my journey, except that kid in Kansas.  However, living in the van I lean more towards homelessness, which people don’t find enchanting or endearing of any sort. Most people actually find it concerning. Especially when I am parked in front of their million dollar homes along the water, cooking a meal with the top popped.  In fact, they are so concerned (for my well being, of course) they send out local representatives from the Coronado Police Department to find out who I am and why I haven’t left yet.  You haven’t lived until you chatted with three police officers while cooking breakfast in your pajamas in front of hundreds of curious beach goers.  

  The lifestyle takes some getting used to but there is more to it than the highlight reels you see on Instagram and Facebook.  Some of my most frustrating moments stem from everyday things like finding a restroom or a place to charge my phone.    

   This stress doubles when the van starts to misbehave, which has already happened once when I was out in the desert.  Fortunately, it was a small vacuum leak that was easily fixed but that may not always be the case. I was just lucky this time.

What’s Next?

  This question has been following me for several months now and it’s finally caught up.  For the short term, I am going to spend my effort and time restoring the van and improving my writing.  I will do a better job of keeping my blog active to ensure I am writing more consistently. The next few weeks will be dedicated to sharing stories from my bike trip that I didn’t write while pedaling.  I really look forward to sharing faces and names from the road with you.  

  There’s also a firm plan that extends all the way out to late summer but I am not ready to share that just yet.  You will have to stay tuned, but I promise that good things are on the way.