So The Adventure Begins

Last week, my friend passed through Tucson on her way to her next adventure, and we celebrated her birthday with a sound bath and cacao ceremony. During our conversation, I admitted that as much as I'd loved having my little van, Beastie, these past six years, I was also tired of the stress that came with her. If she sat too long, I worried about pack rats moving in or mechanical problems from lack of use. I had started thinking seriously about putting her in a storage facility closer to home so I could keep a better eye on things, start the engine and generator regularly, and give myself time to decide what I really wanted to do.

So I called a storage facility to ask about parking the van there.

And honestly, the only way I can describe what happened next is divine intervention.

Early the following Monday morning, I received a phone call from an RV dealership asking if I'd ever considered selling my van.

My first thought?

Scam.

But I recognized the dealership's name, so I hung up and called them back directly. As it turns out, they really do have employees whose entire job is finding RVs to purchase. It's called procurement. Somehow, I ended up speaking with the exact same man. He gave me a lowball estimate and offered to come look at the van in person if I was interested.

That conversation kicked my brain into overdrive.

After we hung up, I started searching online for my dream SUV, the perfect little vehicle to camp and sleep in. The very first result was an older hybrid with fewer than 20,000 miles at the dealership where a relative of mine works.

That felt like another breadcrumb on the trail.

I called the dealership. The SUV had literally just been traded in. It hadn't even gone through inspection yet.

I sent my relative all the information on Beastie, and then I drove her to what would become our final destination together.

Now here's the thing about my little SUV. It's not flashy. There are no dramatic bells and whistles. It's practical, dependable, and, if I'm being honest, a little boring.

But it'll probably run 200,000 miles if I take care of it.

I won't live that long.

Oddly enough, that thought filled me with peace.

Before signing the papers, I climbed into the back of the SUV, in a discreet corner of the lot so I wouldn't embarrass anyone, just to make sure I could sleep comfortably.

I could.

Her name is Mini Beastie. A gentler, kinder, smaller version of her predecessor.

I've already sorted through my camping gear and packed almost everything into four storage bins that fit neatly in the back. Once I finish school, I'm hoping to take my first trip.

And when I finally pull out of the driveway, Kate Campbell's "See Rock City" will absolutely be playing through the speakers.

Mom, thank you for introducing me to this way of living. Every mile I travel will carry a little piece of you with me.

Hopefully, in six weeks, Mini Beastie and I will be heading down the road together.

Life is good.