We leave for our next adventure in March 2026!

We point the van toward the line on the map
where Arizona exhales New Mexico whispers
and Texas waits with its wide, unblinking eyes.

No drone shots.
No morning routine.
Just coffee from a propane flame
and the hum of 4 tires that don’t care
how many likes we get.

The Sprinter rattles like an old truth,
cupboards arguing with every mile,
Elons Starlink blinking—maybe working, maybe not.
We don’t call it “van life.”
It’s just where our stuff is.

The desert doesn’t perform.
It doesn’t ask us to stand in the frame.
It lets us pass through
with our bugs on the windshield
and our plans half-formed.

Somewhere outside Las Cruces
we will pull over for nothing in particular.
No sunset reel.
Just the wind moving creosote
like it’s been doing long before
anyone tried to monetize wonder.

Texas comes on slow—
longer roads, louder trucks,
a sense that you better mean what you say.
We do.
We mean the miles.
We mean the quiet.
We mean choosing motion over polish.

There’s no affiliate link for this.
No code for sleeping crooked,
for fixing a drawer with a screw found on the floor,
for feeling small under a sky
that refuses to trend.

Just the road again.
Just us.
Just a van rolling east
without asking permission
or pretending it’s anything more
than a beautiful life in progress.