Honorable mention
The Dream Van
John R. Murray
Honorable mention
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The decision had been made. My girlfriend Andrea and I would pack up our belongings and leave our downtown Saint Paul home and studio to travel the USA. Andrea is a painter and I am a freelance photographer, and we decided to give ourselves a year to live as nomads before settling back down to a more normal lifestyle. It was just after Labor Day when we set our departure for early January of 1998. A fun idea indeed, but some work and thoughtful planning was needed before we could leave our current life behind and hit the road.That work included figuring out how we would travel and where we would sleep. We knew we wanted to camp and spend most of our time away from the rush of the city but we also knew the balances of our savings accounts. Frugality would be a key to our success. The truth is I didn't even have a savings account but I figured if I waited until I had the kind of money most people travel with I would be spending my time waiting instead of traveling. We were going to be nomads and our confidence kept the worries of such an unusual plan at a distance. Where that confidence came from I can only guess . We had virtually no experience at being homeless and had only camped together a few short weekends in the four years we had been together. Nevertheless, our quest to be wanderers began. We are both artists and this journey called to our creative souls. That and the thought of bearing through another long Minnesota winter.
Andrea focused on working double shifts waiting tables to save money. She even managed to find studio time to make a couple new oil paintings for a gallery show that was planned for December. I took charge of logistics planning, packing and the purging of all the crap that we had mindlessly collected. Traveling light quickly became an important theme of our adventure plans. No self-respecting nomad would bring more than the essentials! I began wrapping up the photography assignments I had booked through the end of the year and took any new freelance photo jobs that I could complete by our departure date which we had been officially set for January 7, 1998.
Our excitement grew as we shared the adventure plans with family and friends, most of whom were curious and even more envious. One question we couldn't yet answer was how we would travel and what we would use to camp in. We knew for sure that we would not last a year living out of a tent. Fifteen years ago I endured a three month tent trip during a break from college but I could not imagine a repeat of that escapade, however fond the memory.
My initial idea was to get a small tent trailer that we would pull behind either my mini-van or Andrea's S- 10 pick-up. I hit most of the RV lots in the Twin Cities and scanned the daily papers for classifieds. My search proved disappointing. There were few decent tent campers to choose from in our starving artist price range. Our planning continued while the Minnesota fall colors performed their show, took a bow and dropped to the earth. Along with the leaves seemed to go the ads for trailers. At one final RV sale I found a cute little Coleman tent camper I really wanted but it's price tag kept me from towing it home. We remained without a home for our journey.
In late October we took a break from the city in the wilds of northern Minnesota, renting a log cabin with another couple. Between hikes and bird watching from the log dining table I brainstormed about our trip, focusing on what to do for a camping vehicle. I had sold my mini-van the week before which left just the S-10 pick-up. But, after adding up all the weight I thought we would be hauling I concluded the little S-10 was not cut out to haul all of our cargo and a trailer too. Andrea agreed with me.
So what were we going to do now? Buy a bigger truck and then a tent trailer? We had shopped for nearly a year for that red S-10 and the thought of going through that again brought a bit of nausea to my already nervous stomach. It seems we had trouble making quick decisions concerning big purchases. It's easy to blame it on poverty but that's really a lame excuse. I suspect it has to do with trusting your instincts and that elusive habit of "going with your gut". With only two months before departure time our search for a home seemed to have hit a road block.
We returned to the city anxious to continue our packing and storage of household items. We decided to stay at a friends' house for the last two months of the year to save a few bucks and get the major move out of the way. We were going ahead with this trip all right. We ended our studio lease, canceled our utilities, sent our change of address notices out and mailed postcards to friends and clients telling them of our nomadic plans. Everything was falling into place except our mode of camping.
Andrea and I talked about a possible solution. How about a camper van? We knew nothing about them. I had not been shopping for one. What could we possibly find for such little money? Winter was on it's way and in Minnesota that means most outdoor activities change radically. Camping and campers are the furthest things from most people's minds in that area which becomes part of the Arctic Circle between November and the end of March.
We were now living out of duffel bags and mooching a bedroom from a friend. Andrea, who worries enough for ten people, began to worry out loud. I assured her everything would work out even though I was running out of ideas.
"Oh, we can probably find a good deal on a camper when we get down South, no rust," I suggested to those who were curious about our travel plans. I didn't mention that I had never traveled in the South.
Andrea kept her mind on work and cautiously trusted my faith that everything would work out. I had no leads for a big truck, tent camper or camper van. I all but ended my search and tended to other matters of our upcoming homelessness.
I drove a couple hours into the country to spend Thanksgiving with some family. Andrea stayed in the city hoping to make some good holiday tips. Without the noisy background grind of the city I was able to sleep in. And in my morning snooze I had a dream.
I dreamt that I went shopping for camper vans. The salesman let me tour a Volkswagen Camper. In my real, waking life I had never been in a Volkswagen van, let alone a camper version of one. This dream van was fantastic. Even though it was quite small it seem to have everything in it including a kitchen with a lovely bay window. I kept opening cupboard doors and finding great little camping features. I had found our camper!
Like most of my dreams, many of the details faded soon after waking. But the excitement I felt from this fantasy camper remained. I shared my newfound hope with family at breakfast and they kindly let me entertain them.
"I'm going to go find a Volkswagen camper when I get back to the cities," I claimed. I knew I had seen Volkswagen vans around but they were not a common site in Minnesota.
Thanksgiving dinner was the usual gluttonous feast and even though it would be one of my last family visits for a while I was anxious to return to the city and find our camper.
That following Monday morning I drove Andrea to the restaurant where she worked. The night before I had shared my camper dream with her but somehow she was not convinced salvation was near at hand. Yet that chilly morning brought an uncharacteristic declaration from her concerning our camper dilemma.
"Let's just find a camper van for $2000 and be done with it!" she said.
Andrea is the first to admit that mornings are her chosen time to be a quiet if not an anti-social creature so her command stood out. I kissed her good-bye and told her I would start camper van shopping right away.
On my drive back to our temporary home my mind drifted away back to my Volkswagen dream. I searched my cerebral data bank, trying to think of where I had seen or might find a Volkswagen camper. Bingo! I recalled seeing some Volkswagen vans parked outside a little corner import repair shop only a mile from where we were staying. I had nothing to lose so I made tracks to this shop.
Sure enough, there were a couple vans parked on the street next to the shop. My heart shifted into high gear. They we not for sale but at least I might have a chance to look at one and see just how wild my dream was. I peeked in one and it sure looked like a camper to me.
I made my way into the greasy shop and found a young mechanic at work.
"Sorry to bother you but I saw those vans outside and I was hoping to find out a little more about them. I'm in the market for a small camper van and they look pretty cool."
"Ah, they're the greatest," his goatee stretched as he smiled. "I've had one for quite a few years and wouldn't go camping without one. In fact I just picked up a newer one; that white one out there is mine and I'm getting ready to sell it."
My goatee stretched even further. "What would you want for it?" I asked, not having a clue what these campers are worth.
"Well, if I didn't have to advertise for it I would take $2000."
I tried to contain my excitement, rubbing my hand around my mouth as if to soften my grin.
He offered the keys: "Take her for a ride."
The rest is history. Andrea and I, now officially neo-nomads, are making our home in that 1980 Volkswagen Vanagon Westfalia Deluxe Campmobile. OK, so it doesn't have a bay window in the kitchen but it's still our dream van!
The End
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