The Epic Van


Don’t call my awesome ride an RV

  • Sitting on the steps of The Epic Van in Texas's Palo Duro Canyon with our folding bikes and Pippi, our 16-year-old cat, who traveled with us until she went to the road trip in the sky.

This may be totally stupid, but I have a hostile reaction when people say, “Oh, you’re driving around in an RV. Cool. My grandmother does that.”

This usually happens after I’ve told them of our totally awesome, unconventional, fearless life on the road. After I’ve specifically told them that I live in a big camper van. (Which, OK, technically is an RV but, in my world, is my free-spirit house on wheels.)

The things we carry (and where)

  • Our rolling house IS a very, very, very fine house (a gift from Janie). And the owl, crafted from an A&W Root Beer can, is a gift from our son, Nate, to remind me of my first job, the beginning of it all!

People we meet are amazed that we’re actually living in our fancy camper van. One of the first things they ask us is, “What do you do with all of your stuff?” Then, “What did you do with all your other stuff?”

Stuff seems to be the big issue for people. It was for us when we lived in a big house. We filled it with stuff. When we decided to sell the house and live on the road, we got rid of about 60 percent of our stuff. The rest, antiques, family photos, boxes of vintage Christmas decorations that can’t be replaced, that beautiful glass-front bookcase we waited years to buy, that stuff is in storage for the day we decide to stop rolling, whenever that may be. In fact, Tom and I figure that, if we had it to do again, we would get rid of half of what’s in storage. We haven’t missed any of it in the more than a year since we left. Our bed and dresser now sit in my mother’s guest room, where we stay when we go home for Thanksgiving and Christmas.

But what did we take? What’s in The Epic Van? What makes it a home? What was a mistake and what was sent packing?

Laundry, a lost chihuahua and a doppelganger in Del Rio, Texas

The laundromat in Del Rio, Texas, was the lone business in a shuttered shopping strip, miles from downtown. The good news: It was open until 11 p.m. Little did I know I would meet my doppelganger there.

Room with a view (kitchen with tiny fridge)

  • Eggs stay safe in a plastic camping case.

By Tom Nichols

When Judy and I began shopping for a Class B RV, we quickly decided that openness in our “house” was more important than the capacity of our refrigerator.

We chose the Roadtrek RS Adventurous, with nearly 360-degree windows. There was another model, the CS Adventurous, that had a much larger refrigerator that stood all the way to the roof, but it eliminated some windows. We opted for light.

Six months of full-time living in The Epic Van, and our choice has been validated.

Close encounter with bear (spray)

IMG_1648-croppedThe day I bear-sprayed myself started out fairly organized.

We were planning to leave early from Bog Springs Campground in Madera Canyon, a beautiful spot in the Coronado National Forest in Arizona. We wanted to get to the Titan Missile Museum on our way to a campground near Arivaca.

We were up early, stowing our bedding, making breakfast and packing up all our gear, camera, hiking boots, camp chairs, grill, computers, knitting, cat. I wasn’t even thinking about the bear spray.

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