I spent years considering van life and finally embarked on a 2-week trip last fall. 5 months later, I'm still dreaming of the lifestyle.
22.03.2024 - 05:53
/ insider.com
/ Monica Humphries
/ Ram Promaster
Last summer, I stepped outside my dew-covered tent in Bryce Canyon National Park after a night of tossing and turning.
Before I could process the vibrant sunset, the first thought that crossed my mind was how the knots in my back wouldn't exist if I had slept on a mattress.
The spring before that, I woke up sweaty at the Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival, craving a Glacier Freeze Gatorade that spent all night cooling in a fridge.
Sandwiched between those nights in tents are countless early-morning hikes and late nights stargazing, where I wished the comforts of my home were feet away instead of miles away.
Those desires could be answered with van life — especially since the version of van life I saw scrolling on Instagram and TikTok seemed to fit my outdoorsy lifestyle.
While not everyone who lives in their car does it by choice — vehicular homelessness is on the rise across the United States — there is a growing population of people who choose to live out of cars, vans, and RVs. Fueled by the pandemic and rising costs of living, more people are trading their houses and apartments for vehicles. In fact, Allied Market Research reported that the global RV market was valued at $57.3 billion in 2021 and could reach $117 billion by 2031.
Last October, it was my turn to test out the lifestyle.
Since becoming a reporter at Business Insider, I've profiled dozens of nomads living in RVs, vans, travel trailers, and tiny homes on wheels.
Interview after interview, conversation after conversion, one piece of advice constantly popped up.
"I would recommend trying to rent a van for at least a week or two," Maddy Garrett, a 25-year-old who moved into a Subaru Outback and recently upgraded to a Ram ProMaster, previously told BI. "After that, it's like, 'OK, I know I can do this.'"
The lifestyle has its downsides — bathrooms and campsites can be tough to find, people can struggle to find community, and not everyone is built to live in a state of flux.
For some, the positives outweigh the negatives. For others, the advantages don't come out on top.
As someone who has a habit of romanticizing everyday tasks like neighborhood walks and grocery shopping, a test run felt required before uprooting my life and emptying my bank account.
Last summer, I began planning a two-week trip in a campervan. Two weeks was enough time to test out camping in RV resorts, on public land, and in parking lots outside Cracker Barrel and Walmart.
I could grocery shop and cook meals while balancing long days driving with isolated days hiking.
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I knew two weeks wasn't enough to experience every aspect of van life. For example, my biggest hesitation is a fear of getting lonely on the road — which is something I knew I