It was in the summer of 2021 that Gabby Petito went missing while camping with her boyfriend in Wyoming. I, like millions of Americans, learned about Gabby’s disappearance as the story unfolded bit by bit each night on the evening news. It was through those news segments that I first heard the term “vanlife community.” On every one of those broadcasts, reporters would mention #vanlife — literally saying “hashtag vanlife” — each time they discussed the tragic case.

It wasn’t long before coverage of Gabby Petito faded from the news, replaced by whatever the next big story was, but the idea of #vanlife stuck with me. The concept of converting a van into a miniature RV of sorts and travelling around inside it really captured my attention. It’s a general concept that scratches a lot of different itches for me. They’re similar to RVs, they’re kind of like tiny houses, and they involve road trips.

I have watched every episode of every tiny house television series I can find. As much as I love everything about the tiny house movement, I also know that it would never work for me. I’m married with two grown children. We live in Oklahoma, a section of the country where land is notoriously inexpensive. Our last house was 4,200 square feet; a few years ago we downsized to a slightly smaller home that sits on three-quarters of an acre, on which we have added a workshop and in-ground swimming pool.

But even in some pretend, alternate universe in which I somehow lived alone, I could never part with enough of my possessions to “go tiny.” I own, to put it politely, “many things.” My wife once dubbed me “the Collector of Collections.” I own vinyl records, books dating back to my childhood, at least fifty vintage lunchboxes, enough toys to start a toy museum, and a never-ending collection of vintage video games and retro computers. There is an irony there, an internal conflict that I will never be able to resolve. Part of me admires the workmanship and ingenuity that goes into cramming a person’s necessities into 200 square feet of space. The other part of me owns twelve pairs of high top tennis shoes and can’t seem to part with any of them.

We did, however, rent an RV several years ago. We drove it from Oklahoma to New Mexico, making stops in Amarillo and Albuquerque before arriving in Santa Fe. It was, as they say, the best of times and the worst of times. There were many parts of the experience that I found very enjoyable. I loved the drive, the scenery, and having all of our items with us, easily accessible. That being said, had the specific RV we rented instead been a race horse, it would have been sent to the glue factory long ago. The breakers were constantly tripping (causing the rear air conditioning to fail), the bunk beds were positioned directly over a stinky sewage tank, and the rear bed was equipped with a mattress no thicker than a graham cracker. The RV was so rickety that when we returned it, we were charged for a few pieces that fell off somewhere along the plains of I-40.

My wife, kids, and I have visited all 50 states. I’m a big fan of road trips — always have been, always will be. As a family, we’ve driven from Oklahoma to Maine, Florida, California, and Washington. If I use my van for nothing more than an excuse to take a few more road trips, it’ll be worth it.

Those that know me best know that when I get interested in a topic I tend to do deep dives. For six months I’ve been consuming information about camper vans like a college student cramming for finals. You could say I’ve watched video about everything but the kitchen sink, but I’ve watched a lot of videos about sinks, too. (Hand pump? Foot pump? Electric pump? USB powered? I digress…) Typically after focusing on a topic for a week or two I’ll reach a mental saturation point and move on. This time, that hasn’t happened. The more I read, watch, and learn about #vanlife, the more I want to experience it.

In full disclosure, I feel compelled to state that I am a middle-aged, middle-class white man who realizes, understands, and enjoys all the comforts those things afford me. Some people turn to vanlife only as an alternative to being houseless. Others rebuff social norms and expectations and choose to live in a van as a way to escape from the rat race. And then there are people like me, those who for whatever reason are drawn to the allure of what #vanlife offers without the ability or desire to fully commit to it. That is the group into which I fall — a group I suspect may not be appreciated by full time vanlifers, and not understood by anyone else. All I can say is that whatever it is in my heart that continues to lead me down this path is the same part that doesn’t care what anyone else thinks about it. To most of my friends and coworkers, the idea of sleeping inside a parked vehicle sounds bizarre and unnecessary. To me, it sounds exciting and relaxing. I am lucky and fortunate to be able to convert a van out of passion and curiosity vs desperation.

I have spent the past three months actively looking for a van. The parameters I set were that I wanted a van newer than my Chevy Avalanche (2006) with fewer miles (180,000) for around $7k (my current budget). There have been many false leads and a few “almosts” over the past several months, but two days ago on May 13, 2022 (Friday the 13th!) I finally found what I was looking for: a 2007 Ford Econoline E-250 with 128,000 miles for $6,500. The ad described the van as “solid under the hood, but won’t win any beauty contests,” which now that I think about it, sounds a lot like me.

On this blog I’ll be discussing every aspect of #vanlife, documenting the conversion of my van and, hopefully someday, the adventures I take in it. This website will serve as my home base, although I’ll be adding content to Twitter, Instagram, and YouTube soon. Check the About BigRobsVan section for direct links. I’d love it if you followed me there.

Finally, about that name. I’m a big guy, and every time I end up in a room where there’s more than one “Rob,” somehow I get referred to as “Big Rob.” It’s not a nickname I chose or have ever gone by but it happens, and I can only assume at some point I’ll cross paths with another Rob at some “meeting of the van people” and I’ll get dubbed Big Rob. So, why not lead with it. I don’t know what my van will ultimately end up looking like, but you can bet it’ll have a comfortable bed and a nice refrigerator inside.