The idea of converting a van into a camper and living out of it was first proposed to me by my father at the beginning of summer after I had graduated high school. We were chatting about how I would commute to university which I was starting that fall, and discussing whether or not it would be feasible for me to move out of my parents place. After searching up a few listings near the school it was easy to see that living on my own at this point was out of the question. The available options were either too expensive for me to afford with my part time job, or so far away from the school I may as well have continued living with my parents to save the money. Even the options for living on campus seemed too far out of reach with my meagre salary. Jokingly–or so I thought–my dad said “You could live out of a van for bit if you wanted.”

I scoffed and replied”Yeah, that could be fun” not expecting the conversation to go any further as I was certain he–and more importantly my mother–would never let their oldest child live out of a car for their first year of university. To my surprise however, he was insistent. Immediately after my reply he started showing me other people’s car conversions and I realised he wasn’t joking.

Looking back I see that perhaps my parents lassez-faire attitude towards their son “living in a van down by the river” (as most of my relatives and friends called this experience, which may contain a thread of truth) wasn’t so unexpected. My godparents, whom I looked up to greatly, had lived in an impeccably outfitted 30-foot sprinter van for several years, travelling around North America, working remotely before it was cool, and rock climbing. They had come to stay with us a handful of times and seeing the new upgrades or features of the van was always a highlight of their visits (the whole interior of their van was built by their own hands, from the heated floor to the full-sized shower). I suppose my mother–an incredibly loving person who continually stresses about the safety of her children–had an image of me living in some facsimile of my godparent’s van, which I think was a major contributor to her allowing this project to go ahead. I have a feeling if I rolled into the driveway with my completed van and said “Hey Mom! I’m gonna go live in this thing for two years” she would’ve had an aneurysm.

The first step was actually obtaining a van I could convert into a camper. I didn’t want anything huge or anything that obviously looked like a camper because I was planning on living in my university’s parking lot; ergo, the less attention I drew to myself, the better. I also had to pick a vehicle that was easy to work on. I didn’t want to have to spend hours ripping out seats and modifying the frame of a tiny car just to fit in a small bed. Eventually I landed on a 2010 Dodge Grand Caravan for a few reasons: 1. It is one of the most common cars in North America meaning I would blend in easily and spare parts should be easy to find 2. The “Stow ’N Go” seats this model came with were easily removed with only a few bolts, leaving me with a flat space to work, and space in the floor for storage 3. It was cheap to buy second hand on Facebook Marketplace

Unbeknownst to me at the time the third point would kick me in the rear later, as it almost immediately started to break down the moment I drove it. I think often of how much stress I would have avoided if I bought the other van I was looking at (exact same, colour, make, and model) for only 300 dollars more. The van was sold to me with an essentially empty fuel tank. I was told, more or less, to coast downhill to the nearest gas station to fill it up before I drove. I thought this was fine, but even before the car went above 20km/h the engine light turned on. Being completely inexperienced with vehicles at this point in my life (I’m still not much better honestly) I didn’t think too much of it until we got home. Once we had it parked my dad popped the hood and pulled out one of those engine code readers and we learned that the thermostat was broken, the head gaskets and battery needed to be replaced, there was an exhaust leak somewhere (that was never fixed) and the wiper fluid pump was broken. In short, I had a lot of work to do before I could live in this thing.

I ordered the parts I needed to fix the van and in the interim I focused my energy towards designing the interior. I poured over countless designs and conversions others had done, everything from school busses to Honda Civics, to figure out exactly what I thought I needed, and how to fit all that into a 4’x8’ space. In the end I determined that the following was absolutely necessary (in no particular order): - A sink with freshwater and greywater tanks thank would last at least a week. - A heater of some sort (Canadian winters eh?) - Insulated floor (see above) - Solar panel + Batteries to run the “camper” parts of the van, as I was worried about accidentally killing the engine battery while charging my phone at night - Batteries + inverter strong enough to run an induction cooktop. - Emergency toilet. I planned to make use of public washrooms for 99% of what I needed, but in no way did I want to be without a toilet option for the other 1% of times.

In the end I managed all these requirements and more, but by this time the parts for fixing the van came in and I had to get to work. As mentioned earlier, I truly had no idea what some of these parts I was replacing even did. I had changed an oil filter and could swap tires easily enough, but looking at that intricate block of metal under the hood always filled me with a sense of dread. The dread got no better as we started to disassemble it. It went easily enough all things considered. My dad is an aircraft mechanic so this was very familiar territory for him. He took the lead and I asked lots of questions. I have trouble even recounting what we did as I can’t remember half the names of the engine parts. All in all it was a long two weeks of having a fresh part, trying to identify where that part was in the van (an arduous task as there was so much dust and grime any identifying features where transformed into a uniform grey slate), and replacing it trying to lose as few screws as possible, pun not intended.

After this initial period of repair the van ran with few issues. There was still that elusive exhaust leak and the new battery we got was smaller in size than the previous one so we had to hold it in place with lots of ratchet straps, but it worked well enough to move onto the fun part.

The actual woodworking was pretty simple. Most of the wood I got for free from my Grandfather who had many decades of old lumber piled up in his garage and storage. Most of the structure of the build was built 2x4s, with thin wooden veneers to act as a facade for the “closet” (a hole where I could stuff clothes into), and some thicker 1/2 inch plywood for the top of the bed and table. The bed itself was cut into 5 sections, four large sections and one small, with hinges attaching the panels together. This allowed the bed to fold up into a couch, with the ability to sit facing the front of the car, or facing the back if you open the truck (which is great for camping with a view). This folding bed was a fantastic decision, and I know that if I only had the option to lay on the bed, I would not have lasted in the van as long as I did. When you live a space the same size as a full sheet of plywood, you really learn to appreciate variety of sitting options. In addition to the variety of seating the bed doubled as a drawer that was accessible by flipping up the seating panel. When paired with the sliding things underneath the bed this provided a decent amount of extra storage which is always a premium in van builds. The floor was 3/4 inch foam board with plywood glued overtop, cut to fit snugly along the many contours of the van. The floor also had two large panels cut out that rested over the void previously containing two “Stow ’N Go” seats which acted as my pantry. While not necessarily easy to open and close, it was simple and provided lots of space for food, kitchenware, and an induction stovetop. In terms of the kitchen (and satisfying the requirement of having a week’s worth of water) this was accomplished by rigging up a small electric water pump to two 20l water containers. One container would hold freshwater which would get pumped up and through a retractable faucet into the sink (a mixing bowl with the bottom cut out of it) finally funneling into a second 20l container. Had I needed to drink solely the water in my van, it likely wouldn’t have lasted a week. However, by being sparing with water while washing dishes and cooking food it lasted just fine and was reasonably functional. When out camping I could even pull the retractable faucet outside and have a quick shower! When installing the heater we realized it would be necessary to pump out the fumes as it ran on diesel. To prevent dying quietly of carbon monoxide poisoning we drilled a hole through the thin sidewall of the back left wheel well and positioned the exhaust tube out the side. This was easily the biggest modification we made to the van itself. All the other parts were easily removable with the idea being that should it be necessary I could grab any old Dodge Grand Caravan, slide in the floor, bed, and sink/closet assembly and be back on the road. Beyond this tube sticking out the side and perhaps the solar panels on the roof, there was very little from the outside that would indicate the converted nature of the interior.

There were many more small things that needed to be done. I will only touch on them here briefly. Batteries were boat batteries we had laying around kept in the trunk which ran everything electric (along with an extension cord running outside in case I had a powered parking spot). These batteries connected to two inverters for anything requiring AC power (like my laptop charger and induction cooktop) and I used DC plugins for everything else. Window covers, small roof light, and more were more about finding the space for them than about doing any actual construction. After a few nights of sleeping in the driveway I was finally ready to head off on my maiden voyage.

Funnily enough, I can’t remember exactly where I went on my first night in the van. I had a few spots I would stay regularly when I started actually living in the van. I had a parking pass at the university where I would stay on school nights, my work was kind enough to let me sleep in the parking lot before I had a morning shift, and I would come back home to check in with my parents occasionally. I remember my mom thinking it crazy I would rather sleep in the van in the driveway than inside in my old room, especially on cold nights. I was simply too excited to do anything else. The excitement is the one thing I remember the most about this time. Each night I felt giddy to be on my own in a van-cum-apartment that I had built myself. Everything was going remarkably smoothly and after a short adjustment period it began to feel like a home.

The next few months I fell into a regular routine. I went to school, went to work, each night retiring to the comfort of my vehicle. It was the winter semester so each night would be cold and biting outside, but inside the van was a warm and cozy respite from the weather. I found a spot on campus that was close enough to the building I could use it’s wifi to work on school assignments, had a spot to plug in my extension cord to power a small electric heater (thereby saving me money on diesel for the heater), and was close to washrooms I could access with my student card. I couldn’t have asked for anything better really. This was arguably the first time I experienced true independence. The regularity, comfort, and ease of what could have been a stressful experience makes me look back on this time the most fondly when I think of all I did during my time in the van.

As the school semester wrapped up I needed to figure out how I was going to spend my summer in the van. As much as I wanted to travel across Canada and see the sights I had little experience at this point with finding and sleeping in different spots each night (that came later) and more importantly I needed money, as all university students do. My solution was to take myself an hour west to Canmore to work and live there for the summer. I got a job a local café and found a guy on Kijiji who was willing to rent out his driveway for a very reasonable 300 dollars a month, which included power by way of plugging into his outdoor outlets. He was a seemingly kind, if not very strange, older man who rented out many rooms in his house to others around my age also working in the town temporarily. Largely I avoided him in an attempt to cultivate some greater sense of isolation than I had living in Calgary. It felt exciting to be living in a town where I knew no one and didn’t necessarily want to spend my time chatting about how I should bury all my money as gold (he was weird in other ways as well, but it’s largely unimportant for this account). For as much as I avoided him, I am grateful he let me live in his driveway unimpeded for a summer. The summer brought new challenges. I had brought my bike with me so the van stayed stationary most of the time. This was great in terms of saving on gas but it also meant it spent most of the day basking in the sun. While the insulation worked great to keep me warm in the winter months, it did a terrible job of creating a cool environment to return to after work. I would nearly always have to get home, change as quickly as I could because I started sweating immediately after entering the van, and then leave to kill time until I could return when it was less sunny and I could open all the doors to air out the van. The small fan I bought from the dollar store did little to lessen the heat. Luckily I was parked near a beautiful lake which I frequented throughout the summer. The water was always icy cold, which I appreciated, and even without swimming it offered shade, water, and a quiet place to spend my afternoons. Living in such a small space meant I had little to do in the way of housekeeping, meaning I had ample time to lounge about. Beyond participating in my standard hobbies (climbing, biking, kendama) I spent lots of time exploring the town in relative solitude. My partner would come out to visit me occasionally and I would do the same driving back and forth between Calgary and Canmore (this drive is an all time favorite for me. Nothing beats seeing the prairies slowly get hillier as you drive into the mountains) but beyond that I did little in the way of trying to be social. I relished this opportunity to be alone with myself a majority of the time. As the summer drew to a close I had a dilemma. I had only rented the driveway until the end of August but my job at the café ran for a few more weeks before I was to return to Calgary and start the next semester. I needed to figure out where to park. This was pretty much the first time I needed to find a spot to station my van overnight in an area where I knew no one. I had slept on the street outside of friends houses before, resting calmly in the knowledge that should anyone bother me I could go inside. Thankfully my van looked more or less like your average minivan minus the tube sticking out the side and solar panels on top. In an outdoor town like Canmore–and most places I later found out–it was pretty easy to blend into nearly any neighborhood street. I took care to arrive late and leave early but found no issues parking randomly. It was more difficult logistically as it meant I didn’t have access to a plugin for AC power or an easy way to swap out gray water when needed, but otherwise was smooth sailing. The skill of finding spots to park and, more importantly, doing so without drawing any attention towards myself, turned out to be a useful skill the following year. I had missed the deadline to purchase a parking pass at the university and so could not reclaim my perfect parking spot I resided in previously. There was little in the way of free street parking beside the university, though there were neighborhoods a short enough walk away. I parked in many different spots, sometimes near friends places, cycling through 4-5 spots a week. I wanted to be around often enough people didn’t think “oh that’s a weird car I’ve never seen before” but not too often that people started to wonder why it never moved. It continued to work well for the rest of the school year and I once again fell into a similar routine as the previous, with the addition of slightly chillier mornings. Sometime during the winter semester my exhaust tube broke and instead of fixing it I stayed more frequently at my partner’s house. Later that summer we went on a large backpacking trip through Europe and when we returned we moved in together and the van got used less and less. I kept it around for quite a while afterwards as a daily driver whenever needed. Once or twice we did a weekend trip using the van for its original purpose, but eventually more things started to break down and the cost to maintain it was approaching the amount I paid for it. I took out all the expensive components and sold it to a scrapyard for half of what I bought it for, which I don’t think is too bad given the condition it was in and the free accommodation it afforded me for nearly 3 years. Watching it get hauled off was strange. I hadn’t actually lived in it, or even slept in it for that matter, for at least 6 months by the time I sold it and yet it felt so recent that I just moved into it. I had the idea to write about my experience in the van shortly after it left thinking it would be this grand account of my adventures, some great piece of journaling I could reference to prove to others I did this cool thing. I was hesitant to write it, unsure of what to include and how to tell the story. I think of a line in a book I love (This is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-mohtar & Max Gladstone): “To speak of it would be to contain what it did to me, to make it small. I don’t want to do that”. It has left an inexorable mark on my being, as I suppose all things do. Finishing it now, 2 years after the fact, I realize it couldn’t have been this grand story because I never did anything grand in it. I also had no need to. The fact that each morning I woke up to fog covered windows on a bed that I made myself and that each evening I would retire to my kitchen made of water jugs and a mixing bowl was so fun I never felt the need to do anything more. The freedom to be alone and the simplicity of living is what I remember the most when I think about my time living in the van. Sometime in the future perhpas I would like to build another van, something bigger (I would have loved to stand up in the minivan, probably my biggest gripe with the entire build) that I would take on bigger adventures. However, the minivan will always hold a special place in my heart and for all of its quirks and shortcomings I wouldn’t trade that experience for anything.