What an Old Van Can Teach You About Life
Chapter 1: Weird Noises
Living in a 1975 Dodge camper van means being on constant alert, especially when it’s functionality depends on your own handy work.
Day 1.
Fact is, we chose an old van. In my head, for some strange reason, I think I can make old things into perfect things. Perfect doesn’t even exist (especially when talking about a vehicle), so I was already shooting at straws. We built in most of the systems in our van, the top end of the engine, propane, water, and fire place. I think this along with the general uncertainty of our trip kept our ears particularly on alert.
Our first drive away from Virgil’s parents house was exhilarating. We felt like we were leaving the nest for the first time… Truth be told, I’m 27, and this wasn’t my house, but for whatever reason it felt all the same. We were doing it! Our van was done enough for its first trial run, testing out all of our hard work. We were on route to new and exciting things.
It was that very day however, that I started hearing peculiar noises. Maybe a thump here and a raddle there, and each time I would get a little concerned, always turning to Virgil for reassurance. As much as he reassured me that this was just an old vehicle, I caught him whipping his head around to different sounds to make sure we we’re all ok. But truth be told, she’s an old girl, and knock on wood, she’s been as reliable as she is beautiful inside and out.
The other side of noise is that no matter how well you think you’ve tied everything down, you haven’t. So the odd boom and smash just becomes natural after a while, barely looking back to see what it was and the potential devastation behind you.
Van life isn't all clean tidy like most pictures claim. This was after our drive to Sunpeaks, BC. Literally nothing left in it's place, including the dogs.
Sitting down for a study and type session can also trigger the ear. Today for example I heard a hissing noise. The propane! Is it leaking? How long? We’re doomed… Until Virgil points to my partly opened kambucha on the table, hissing away… What can you do but smile a dumb smile and crack open the top to let out the small building pressure in my fermented drink. Shortly after that Virgil sits upright, we hear a consistent dripping… Oh god, not the water, or something worse. What the hell is that? Long story short, we found a waddling raven out the window… Finding things to worry about seems to be a constant in my life, but Dazey is teaching me to slow down, and catch myself before kambucha leads to a full on propane investigation.
The moral of the story, yes, houses have creeks and screeks and the odd hint of noise. But nothing compares to the roar of a 1975 camper van.