The End of VanLife?
August 2022 was a tough one…
We’re coming up on the one year anniversary of the demise of my spectacular home on wheels, Sunnie, and though I talked about it a little on my socials, I feel like I wasn’t able to share what totaling my van really meant to me.
It was the evening of August 24th, just days after I had been laid off of my favorite job that I’ve ever had. We left Chicago in the late afternoon. The sun was going down, and the light was fading. I lay back in the passenger seat of my tiny converted camper van, as Morgan was on diving duty to get us to our next destination, The Wisconsin Dells.
As I scrolled through my phone with my feet on the dash, I remember looking up and seeing dusty debris flying around the cab of the van. A weird, sharp odor entered my nostrils, and I learned up to find my legs in a pile underneath me (that sounds like my legs were broken and they weren’t, but I remember the sensation being like my legs were slung around so much that they were jello-ed into lump below me).
Looking at Morgan, I remember asking her what just happened. She took a deep breath in as the airbag that pounded through the steering wheel sit in her lap, and she glanced down at her bloody arm, as calmly and devastated as possible, she responds, “we hit a deer”.
The van kept going. It happened so fast that Morgan didn’t even have time to flinch, slow down or over-correct. We check our surroundings by glancing in the rearview mirrors as we grab each others hand as to ensure we weren’t dreaming and to confirm to one another that we are still both present, and the few bright head lights behind us kept their speed.
We pull off at the next exit that happened to be over 3 miles away as we see some steam rise up through the hood of the van. We find a high school with good lighting and a big parking lot and take Sunnie’s keys out of the ignition. We both pause in anticipation and concern about the front end of the van, and exit the car. The hood, still steaming, is bent right in the middle from the impact, the fender is falling off and the passenger side of the front end was sprinkled in fur and blood from the critter that had we hit.
Tears begin to run down my face, catastrophizing and emotionally unready for what’s to come. We call our parents and let them know we’re okay (we escaped with some soreness and minor cuts and scrapes), and after we hugged each other, we begin to plan our next steps.
The next part isn’t interesting enough to share in detail. It’s the usual: playing phone tag with the insurance company, arguing with the rental car service about when a car will be available, checking in with the beautifully helpful receptionist at the repair shop (and that’s not sarcasm, Kimberly was lovely), and then waiting almost 3 weeks to get the answer we were looking for: if the van was totaled or not. Luckily, we had some family who let us crash at his house in Kansas City, MO while we waited for any news.
I was on the phone with USAA for the ump-tenth time trying to get feedback, when I simultaneously got an email notification with a breakdown of how f*cked my vehicle was. I scroll to the bottom where in big, black, bold letters says, TOTALED. My eyes immediately fill with tears, I feel nauseous from the pit I have in my stomach, and I let out a weeping breath. The woman on the other line says, “Unfortunately, your vehicle was just deemed totaled Miss, I’m so sorry.” I begin to weep louder, and her sweet voice says, “Are you alright Miss, I can give you a minute.”
I had just lost my job, I had another job hanging in the balance knowing they would be laying me off in the next month, and having just destroyed my home, the feelings of doom rushed to my face. All of my hand work, just gone, like that. The money and hours I spent designing, building, re-building, and perfecting, just down the tubes in the matter of seconds. I’ll never look at a deer the same.
I feel like it sounds dumb to say that I suffered a loss - Sunnie wasn’t living, but she represented my independence, my bravery, my audacity to stick it to the man, and follow my own path of living on the road as a nomad, an adventurer. An adult without a whole lot of direction, but a dream that needed to be followed.
The last year was hard, and I still feel like I’m getting back on my feet, but I’m getting there, slowly. Nebula, Sunnie’s sister (a.k.a. my next vanbuild), is transforming slowly but surely into my next home on wheels, and she’s going to be even MORE beautiful.
Keep up with my building progress on my personal Instagram and TikTok.
And Morgan and my joint Instagram and TikTok accounts.
Finally, I want to thank everyone who donated to our GoFundMe to get us safely back “home” with our families and to help transport what we were able to salvage from Sunnie. We cannot thank you enough!
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