The question, of course, is whether a van can truly be transformed into a mobile haven within the confines of 48 hours. The answer, it seems, is yes—almost. We are now 95% complete, the task accomplished with startling efficiency, though the shadow of unfinished business lingers. The solar panel, the final piece of the puzzle, has yet to arrive, and without it, the van remains incomplete—a creature waiting for its heart to start beating. This transformation is not just about a van, but about creating a home on wheels, a symbol of freedom and adventure.
The battery’s wiring arrived today, marking the beginning of tomorrow’s labour. It is an unsettling feeling, knowing that with each wire and screw, we inch closer to freedom yet remain tethered to the details. However, the bedding is in place, the bed made as if preparing for a journey we could begin at any moment. The drawers, now full, give a sense of readiness, of a plan in motion, reassuring us that we are well-prepared for the journey ahead.
And yet, we wait. We are in Torquay for a few more weeks, held in a kind of suspension, house-sitting and tending to a large, almost monstrous 27-kilogram puppy named Angus. He watches us with an unnerving intensity, as though he knows our plans, his presence a reminder that, for now, we remain here.
This time will allow us to make adjustments—small tweaks that will bring the van closer to perfection before we embark. Westward we will go, toward the endless stretch of the Nullarbor, where a job at a roadhouse might provide us the funds we need to continue our journey into the unknown. Summer looms, but for now, there is time.
And should anyone be in need of a designer, I find myself with a few weeks to kill—a brief interlude before the next chapter begins.
Until then, dear friends, enjoy the calm before your own storm. The road, as always, waits for no one.
Man and Bike Adventures 