We’ve been in one spot longer than we have for the past year. This embodies the push and pull we face as we weigh all we have, all we are leaving behind us, and all we still yearn to find. Consciously choosing to lose things is something we still embrace, though not without a tear or a flash of regret. Avoiding a tear or flash of regret, though, is not our mission.
As our dear friend Bob pointed out, parting ways with Sandy is just part of the journey. So, with this post we share that we are changing the blog and Instagram to reflect our evolving lives. The IG account and the blog will be The Nowhere Van. These words are from a song title written by Conor Oberst for Bright Eyes. We are using it without permission, but with love and respect. Embedded in this post are lyrics from the song, out of order, but lassoed to my thoughts.
We are nowhere and it's now We are nowhere and it's now And like a ten-minute dream in the passenger seat While the world was flying by I haven't been gone very long But it feels like a lifetime
Sandy’s (?) new owners, Jessie and Christy, have been beaming with love and optimism about coming to fetch her. It means a lot to us that good souls will drive her away. Yes, it’s just a bus, but we’ve sweated and bled over every square inch. The cover pic is Sandy in the last pretty setting we stayed in, Phoenix Fruit Farm in Belchertown, MA.
One loss we embrace is a sense of time. It’s a cliche to retire and lose track of days. It’s another to be out of step with the lives of those we love and miss. We know now that we can’t both hold things close and gain new things. So, we choose to keep moving as a way to do both. It’s a mix we strive for, akin to the flight of a hunting falcon, free and aloft, yet always circling the target. It’s a fine balance.
In our wheels that roll around As we move over the ground And all day it seems we've been in between A past and future town
We’ve been staying in Connecticut, hosted by the most generous and patient of friends – Steven and Evelyne – who have opened their home to us. In our zeal and distractedness, they’ve anticipated needs we didn’t even realize we had. We couldn’t have done this without them. Literally. We’d have been stuck. We hope we can repay the generosity now and in the future.
On a practical note, we have to move into the van. It’s been hard to work on the build. Neither one of us has uttered, “Next build, we’ll . . . “ We are so done. We’re pleased with the results, but it will be hard to give up the best bus bathroom ever. On the other hand, I am looking forward to the drivability gains – zooming to see Drew and Natalie and Tate, hitting 25 miles of washboard to the Chaco Culture National Historical Park, or winding through the Moki Dugway. The new build is all electric – no propane, so we’ve had to stress optimizing our solar array. We should be able to have 700 watts on the roof, plus 200 watts remote. We have also done a two-inch lift with tire and suspension upgrades. All this, of course, is designed to get us who-knows-where.
The best gifts are the little things, like the Brady Pincushion cactuses, waiting to show themselves when we’re paying attention.
Did you forget that yellow bird? Oh, how could you forget your yellow bird? She took a small silver wreath and pinned it on to me She said, "This one will bring you love" And I don't know if it's true But I keep it for good luck
We’ll be on the move again soon, circling a bit before launching. You all know how that goes.