Several days ago, when we pulled out of Hay Springs toward Alliance in Nebraska, I was fully convinced our last moments together would likely be spent arguing with each other in the tan van careening down Highway 87 on a terrifying ride into oblivion. This is NOT what I envisioned for van life, nor the end of my life!
As extreme wind gusts blew us all over the road like tumbleweeds and a large swath of sand blacked out everything ahead, I understood how Dr. Jo Harding and Bill "The Extreme" Harding must have felt while driving into those Oklahoma tornadoes with cows flying around in the movie Twister.
I broke down mentally and prayed to every god I knew of and even the ones I didn’t.
This was not one of those Instagrammable moments that sell the idea of van life—unless a picture of me holding onto a steering wheel for dear life with a Kung-Fu grip, gritting my teeth to the point of snapping, and the look of sheer panic does it for you. Dare I mention the severe butt-puckering that left permanent indentions in the driver’s seat?
Call me a sissy or whatever else, but nothing scares the 💩 outta me more than driving a high-profile tin can into hurricane-force winds. Tossing hand grenades and blowing up tanks seems like child’s play compared to this kind of road life adventure.
Unfortunately, there’s no van life manual to explain the terror of driving 45 mph in brutal conditions as you struggle to keep your vehicle from tipping over while locals angrily speed past you and give you the middle finger. There’s no warning about how driving in bad weather like this, along with traffic and mountain climbs, will wipe you out physically and mentally — and increase your alcohol intake to alarming rates.
Maybe it’s just me, but as larger rigs shot by me like a rocket, I started to think perhaps I’m just not good enough to be the pilot of this ship and that it would be better to downsize to living in a Prius, which is more fuel efficient and isn’t a wind sail on wheels, or take up running with the bulls in Spain instead, because it might be safer. All real thoughts as I stared the Grim Reaper in the face.
But this isn’t the first time we’ve faced death while traveling in our truck or with our new camper van, and sadly, it probably won’t be the last.
Back in January, as we camped at Big Bend National Park for the second time, I was awake at 4:30 am one morning, thinking about survival and what we’d do in case of an emergency, like a fire. Moments later, I started to smell something awful, like wires burning. Then I saw smoke begin to fill the cabin.
Lo and behold, I spoke it into existence! (If only I could do that with money!!)
Within seconds, two fifty-somethings evacuated a bed four feet off the ground and escaped the van, unplugged the shore power, and started to grab what we could save. Thankfully, the burning stopped. As we “laughed” about our near-death experience, Donetta mentioned she was glad we weren’t naked. I was ambivalent about it. 🤷♂️ 😝
Anyway.
We soon discovered that the shore power battery charger, which had been plugged in all night, had overheated and almost caught on fire despite its safety mechanism. Despite it ending well, the damage was done. Even with a smoke detector and fire extinguisher now by our side, the PTSD from that incident keeps us from using the new charger unless it’s necessary, and every new weird smell, including farts, puts me on edge.
That said, there have been many sleepless nights of worry and anxiety for me.
Will the Tan Van, the vehicle we have yet to give a proper name, be our metal coffin, leading us to our final destination and resting place?
It doesn’t help the fear when our daughter anxiously, yet jokingly, mentions that she could lose both parents at once because we’re always in the van traveling together. That really puts things in perspective. Thanks, Kayla! 😘
Perhaps for two people in love, who are as passionate about traveling and van life as we are, it could be a fitting way to end our journey together, but I’m not ready for a Thelma and Louise movie moment just yet.
Hopefully it won’t be this Wednesday either, when the Sturgis, South Dakota, winds are forecast to hit 60 mph, because I don’t want to die on hump day after all, unless, of course… well, never mind!
In all seriousness, it’s sobering to think about these dangerous possibilities, but also that I might just actually be stupid to worry about being crumpled up like a tuna can.
Am I the only person who suffers these kinds of crazy fears???
Please tell me.
It would be interesting to know if others feel the same.
P.S. I later found out that a couple of highways were closed due to extreme winds, and that high-profile vehicles were strongly advised to shelter in place.
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If you’d like to show your support for my lack of courage and mental instability, please consider donating to the James Dalman beer fund. I’d love you forever.