My Awful(ly) Great Van Build

Before the project even truly began, it seemed to be falling apart. My girlfriend and I awoke at three in the morning that August to hear my mother frantically yelling, ‘Pack what you can, we need to evacuate - NOW.’ One of the many California wildfires of 2020 was threatening our home. In fact, I didn’t know it then, but it was a mere two miles from our house. Dharia, my girlfriend, and I gathered the solar panels, mini fridge, Maxxair roof fan, and tools into the back of the Chevy 3500 cargo van I had bought two weeks earlier. Within five minutes of my mom waking us up, we were on the road. Visibility was down to twenty feet or so because the smoke was so thick. I put on Gimme Shelter by the rolling stones for full effect. With the van still a hollow shell, the song echoed throughout the van. I could see the orange glow in the air in the direction of my house and realized my childhood home would probably not be there in the morning.

And that was how our Van build started. In many ways that was really just a foreshadowing for the turmoil to come. My childhood home didn’t burn down that night, but a few weeks later we’d be evacuated again. And for many weeks the air quality hovered around the 150 ‘AQI’. The drama only began with the wildfire though. My mother contracted Covid, and went into a two week battle for her life, which she won. Also, I got my girlfriend pregnant - which was a horror to us both. We agreed on getting an abortion, and I scheduled a vasectomy the following day. Then, my little sister was diagnosed with anorexia and needed to go to a treatment facility in San Diego. Then, my girlfriend began slipping back into her old habits of anorexia - an illness she has been fighting for nearly a decade. Often I’d think in my head, ‘How could things get any worse.?’ (A question you should never tempt fate with, I learned.) Each day it would get worse. The wildfire grew, fueled by howling winds and endless heat. Covid cases climb and climb. Fights began breaking out in my home. The strain of it all could be seen on everyone's face. But, that’s how 2020 went for a lot of people, and we pushed on with our van build throughout the chaos.

Despite the pregnancy, toxic smokey air, evacuations, the ongoing pandemic, etc. My girlfriend and I completed our van build after five months of work. Before the van build I had never used a jigsaw. I had zero experience with electrical work - let alone solar. I never took woodshops in high school. Hell, I had never even constructed a wooden box (the first one I made for our battery took me hours). Both me and my girlfriend were starting at square one.

Each new task with the van seemed to come with new problems. I had to rewire the overhead lights seven times before finally getting them to work. The drawers under the bed had to be re-done four times. Everyday was difficult and hot. Really hot. Even by California standards it was a sweltering summer. For weeks at a time the temperature didn’t dip below triple digits.

Sometimes tempers flared. Those were the worst of times. Some days it was too much. It wasn’t just that the solar wasn’t working, again (and for no reason that I could figure out), it was also that my mom was fighting Covid, that my girlfriend was skin and bones and losing her battle with anorexia, that my little sister was in San Diego at a treatment center, that Trump may somehow win the election, that it was 100 fucking degrees for the ninth day in a row, that Covid seemed to be never-ending. It was all of this, and sometimes I failed to be the man I want to be. The stress got to me. On one particularly bad day I lashed out at my Girlfriend for cutting a piece of wood too short. I threw down the wood I was carrying when I saw the mistake and said, ‘Fuck it, I’m done for the day. Why can’t you cut on the line I drew?’

As the weeks wore on and 2020 slowly came to a close, the progress on the van was undeniable. It looked truly stellar. Each night after we would finish the day's work on the van, my girlfriend and I would sit in it, turn the overhead fan on, and drink a few beers. I remember that feeling so well. Sitting in the van feeling so proud of what we created. The ceiling was painted to look like a cloudy blue sky on one half, and the back half was painted to be a starry night. The cabinets -made out of free pallets we’d scavenged- had been stained and looked absolutely immaculate. Our counter had a backsplash for crying out loud. Every bit of the van had been meticulously thought through and painstakingly constructed.

Those evenings spent in the van drinking beer with my girl are some of my happiest memories from last year. ‘This is our home’, we proudly say. To turn a rapist-looking white van into a fully functioning home, complete with a sink, fridge, solar power, stove, and comfortable bed, was a life changing experience for me. I showed myself what I am capable of. Which is anything. Anything I set my mind to, I know I can do now. It gave me confidence to jump into the deep end and to try. The van build birthed in me a love for building and creating.

It’s strange now to think back to those build days now. As I type this, I am in the van deep in an Oregon forest. The weather is cool. And I’m alone. It didn’t work out between my girlfriend and I. It was mostly my fault.

I can see now the toll that the van build took on both of us. For me, it was the only positive outlet I had to put my energy and stress into for much of 2020. I poured all of my savings into it (and ended up wasting a lot of money through many build errors). As the curve balls kept coming - the pregnancy, the evacuations, Covid, the anorexia battle of both my sister and girlfriend - the van became more than just a project. It was my livelihood. Each cut needed to be perfect because nothing else around me was. The van was what I had control over, and I latched onto it for support. The electrical needed to be flawless. Aesthetically and functionally, I wanted this van to be an art piece. And so it became.

But at what cost? Only now, alone in my perfect art-piece of a van, do I know the cost. The van build pulled me through 2020 but also cost me friendships. I didn’t respond to text and calls from old high school buddies because I was too busy fixing the electrical system in the van for the sixth time. And I lost myself. I couldn’t be the boyfriend that I should have. I kept telling myself, after each hot, frustrating day that it would all be worth it. That once we finished the build we’d hit the road to our perfect home, and everything would work out like a fairytale. We’d find a beach somewhere, make some pina coladas and laugh away the day as the tides came in and out.

I wished it had. But, this van designed by and for my girlfriend and I only has one occupant now.

Needless to say, the van build taught me a lot. I can confidently wire and re-wire an electrical system. I can build kick-ass cabinets from scratch- and drawers and spice rack and bed frames. I can solve better than ever before. I know now that sometimes the best move is to take step-back and a deep breath before taking action. I learned that fiercely hard work and dedication really pays off. I am still stunned at the van we created. Have I said how amazing it looks yet?

More importantly I learned about myself. I got carried away. I let myself get carried away with the van. With the world tumbling around me, it was my vessel -quite literally- to calmness and peace. So I thought. But, no project should cost you friends, at least not friends you care about. And it certainly shouldn’t cause my girlfriend pain and lead to the demise of a poetically perfect partnership.

I learned invaluable lessons not only about using all of the different types of screws and drill bits, crimping wires, choosing the correct size electrical wire, etc - but also about myself.

It all mattered so much during the build. Each cut, each pre-drill, each measurement and color choice. Now I see most of this didn’t matter. Things will break and you’ll fix them on the road. Paint chips, cabinet doors break, and the sink may leak. And you’ll fix it. During the build I could see past the next few days of work. I stressed, and stressed out my girlfriend. I made a fun project, not-so fun.

I don’t have plans on slowing the building train down though. Eventually I hope to buy a sailboat and do a full refit. Down the line I want to build a cabin, from scratch. I’ve realized a true passion of mine and know just how successful at it I can be. Next time though, I’ll be weary not to get carried away. Easier said than done I suppose, but the burning ache of losing my lover should serve as a powerful reminder.

Ah, yes, also I am aware that this challenge requires the use of scissors. I suppose this submission will be far different from many others in many ways. I let my heart write this one. Scissors were in fact used during many different parts of the build. As were many other household items repurposed as tools to get the van built. We were on a really tight budget. In fact, the only power tools we used were a drill, jigsaw and sander that I borrowed from a friend. At one point I remember using a scissor to pull apart the old pallets for our cabinets. What a time it was...