A Short Van Life Detour
When it became clear Bob Seger wasn’t moving, I started to panic. I called my BFF who gave me the logical advice to call a tow truck.
“I don’t want to call a tow truck,” I irrationally exclaimed.
“Why not?” he asked.
I really had no good reason. I’m fairly certain it had something to do with my ego. As we were debating my pride versus my reality, a couple of guys pulled up and asked if I needed help.
I definitely wasn’t crying. Definitely. Okay, I was possibly tearfully nodding "Yes!"
They spent two hours trying to get me unstuck while I called the 3 area tow companies in case they weren’t successful. One said “no” outright. Another said “maybe tomorrow.” The highest-rated shop in the area told me it would be three days—maybe a week.
My thought was - well I guess I live here now.
Ultimately, the local guys couldn’t even budge the van. They offered to come back and try again tomorrow as well as get my anything I thought I might need in Taos. I couldn't let them leave empty-handed. I handed over every beer in my fridge (4) as a "thank you" for their effort.
Once they left, I hooked up my Starlink, watched an episode of The Pitt, and as soon as the adrenaline faded, I was out. It didn’t matter that I was sleeping at a severe angle, I had used all of my energy for that day.
I’ve told myself I’m not allowed to have regrets on this journey, but I do have one: I didn't take any pictures of the scenery where I was stuck for the night. When the sun finally came up the next day, I opened the shades in my van and realized how beautiful it was. Snow covered mountains and a dense pine forest. And the only pictures I have are of my van stuck.
At 7:00 AM, the "maybe tomorrow" tow driver called. He arrived in a pickup truck—not a tow truck—and quoted me $500 to get me out. I was skeptical. Good luck with a pickup, I thought, this ditch is my home now.
But he was successful after about 15 minutes of trying. Our deal was not that he get me unstuck, but that he actually get me on the road - and he did.
I followed him out of the forest on the completely snow covered road and stopped at a gas station in Questa to evaluate my options. Based on what I could see, I had definitely lost parts of the black and grey water systems. I didn’t know what other damage there was that I couldn’t see.
I thought about still going. My van was winterized so I wasn’t using any of the water tanks. I could get Bob Seger fixed while I was in Phoenix, which I was eventually going to get to in 2 weeks.
I decided though that the safest option was to head back to Denver. It was closer and I could get it into the dealership that I bought it from quicker. So, Baxter and I cut our initial trip short and headed back home.
I’d find out that the only damage was indeed to the plumbing of my black and grey water systems. And my insurance agreed to cover that damage. So, as I write this, Baxter and I are back on the road. We’re currently "plumbing-free," waiting for parts to arrive so we can loop back to Denver for the final repairs.
A quick note on timing: I’m posting these updates at least a couple weeks behind for safety. My friends and family always know where I am, but the public internet doesn't need to know exactly which forest road I'm sleeping on in real-time.
A Final Thought on "The Journey" I’m still figuring out the format and frequency of these posts. I’d really like to do a YouTube channel eventually, but I’m not super comfortable on camera and video editing seems like a lot of work. The most important thing to me is staying true to myself. I have no interest in creating content for content’s sake. Someone who posts manufactured bullshit for clicks (I’m looking at you food influencers who pretend to savor every bite and then gush poetically on the umami flavors of whatever it is you are eating, roll your eyes back after taking one more bite, I dare you). I view this time as a gift to myself and I really want to take advantage of that. If I can find a way to monetize this so I can stay on the road longer, great—but not at the cost of the experience itself.
I’m not entirely sure where this road is taking us, but I’m so glad you’ve decided to come along for the ride.