Escaper

In high school I read "Through Painted Deserts" by Donald Miller, which is a story of a road trip Don and his friend Paul take from Houston Texas to Portland Oregon. Paul is a free-spirited type of person that moves around a lot, doesn't really have any possessions, and often lives in a vehicle. Its in Paul's van that they take this adventure across the southwest.

Ever since I read that book I've wanted to live in a vehicle. I love the freedom, the simplicity, and the counterculture nature of living in a car. I wasn't able to make my dream come true until after college (although the one summer between highschool and college when I lived in a white astro van).

But when I graduated from Southern Adventist University in December of 2009 I moved into a Toyota Escaper motorhome. 

My parents bought it from a neighbor in rural Levant Maine for $4,500. I fell it love with it from the pictures (more of those below). My parents drove it down from Maine at 55 m.p.h. It took them 3 days to Tennessee, and since it was December, it was tough to stay warm even though the heater worked. (I guess it wasn't sealed well and cold air came in through the windows and doors.) Over the break, I unexpectedly accepted a pastoral job Portland Maine, so after a couple weeks I turned around and drove it right back up.

The day before I left, Nick Livanos agreed to help me drive it up. We drove 26 hours straight, only stopping for gas. People were honking at us because our Southern friends wrote "Just Married" on the back window. Someone (Stephen Wright, Ben Foote, or Tyler Morgan) jumped on the back and wrote it with shaving cream as we were driving out of Southern Village. Nick flew back to Chattanooga the next day. 

The church I was working at let me park the motorhome in the parking lot. There were no electrical or water hookups, so I used the kitchen and the bathroom in the church. I learned I was able to sleep in the motorhome as long as the temperature was above 10 degrees, although it was very common for my breath to freeze on the ceiling above my head.  Sometimes people thought it was for sale. 

One day in the morning I woke up to the sound of someone walking around the camper, and she left after we made eye contact from opposite sides of the window. Another time I woke up to the sound of the door opening. I jolted up and looked over. The man who was coming in was surprised to see me sleeping in there, and the only thing he could think to say was "Is this for sale?" I said no in my groggy I've-just-woken-up voice. 

Some time that first spring it got rear-ended by a pick up truck.