At this very moment I’m sitting in the lobby of a hotel in Cedar Park, Texas. I’m about 20 minutes from the site where Kara and I are building a house—the home we’re aiming to move into sometime over the next seven months. A long time to be patient, we’ve discovered. Especially since we’ve already been patient since November as it is.

We like Cedar Park. The area seems clean and safe, there’s a sort of calming energy to it. There’s a very “home” vibe here, already. House or no house.

This sort of thing really hit us when we rolled back into town after spending a couple of weeks in Waco and then Canton. We’ve been to Waco before—we’re fans of the Magnolia Market and everything Chip and Joanna Gaines are building. We like the industry and work ethic of those two. Waco, on the other hand… it’s not really for us.

Canton was nice. The people we encountered there were good and kind. The fact that everyone was there for one of the biggest flea markets on the planet surely helps. But when the trade days were over and we found ourselves winding down in a local RV park, struggling to get LTE signal so we could work, we decided it was time to move on. So we hoofed it back here.

And that’s when it happened.

It was almost the instant we rolled into familiar territory here. We passed a sign telling us where we were, and then spotted some landmarks we recognized, and that was it. We suddenly, strongly, felt at home.

We’ve felt that before.

On our way back to Texas, after spending a rough patch in Colorado Springs—temperatures below freezing, a bout of bronchitis, an “incident” with the black tank on the van—the instant we crossed the state line I felt my powers returning. Home. That was the feeling.

It happened again when we got to our old stomping grounds, around Sugar Land, Texas. I felt that boost of energy that only the familiar can provide. The feeling of being in a safer, warmer place. The feeling of being in a place where someone cares for and loves you.

Something, though, was changing.

Kara and I have lived around the Sugar Land area for years. It’s only about an hour north of where I grew up, and so everything within seventy miles feels like “home” to me. But before we’d gotten back to Sugar Land, Kara and I had already started looking for a place to live in the Cedar Park area. We landed in a new housing development in Liberty Hill, wedged between Cedar Park, Leander, and Georgetown. And we’d spent a few weeks driving around, exploring, staying in the occasional RV resort or extended stay hotel. We started to become familiar with our surroundings, and from there things started to feel like home. In fact, it started feeling more “home” than where I was raised.

And to me, that’s weird.

Humans are weird in general, really. Because our sense of “home” does shift and change depending on the context of our lives. We are adaptive and adaptable, when it comes to our living situation. We can transplant ourselves nearly anywhere and, with some nesting and acclimation, that place becomes home.

With one caveat.

One of the reasons Sugar Land has been “home” for us for so long is the fact that Kara’s family lives there, and my own family lives only about 45 minutes from there. The people we love were always in that area, and that was what made it home.

But a strange phenomenon is happening as the two of us consider new digs. Something I couldn’t quite have predicted.

First, Kara’s folks announced to us, while we were living full-time on the road, that they were “pulling a Kevin and Kara.” They’d taken a road trip to the Texas Hill Country, and had found a place they liked. So they’re building a house, selling their Sugar Land Home, and transplanting.

The reasons that’s a “Kevin and Kara” is because the two of us have always been pretty spontaneous about our living arrangements. We’ve lived in six rental properties, two “borrowed’ homes, one house we’ve purchased, and three RVs since we got married in 2006. And every one of those homes was something we decided, on a whim, to try out. We wouldn’t trade any of them for anything.

And we had, at one point, told Kara’s folks that we’d come to love the Texas Hill Country. We loved it so much, we thought we might come back around and find a place to live there. And, being us, it was a pretty fair bet that we’d do exactly that.

It must have inspired the two fo them, because they rolled right up to the hill country to find a place for themselves. And they told us all about it over one of our weekly video chats.

Once we learned that her folks were moving to the area, it shifted things a little. We were both getting tired of Sugar Land—and particularly of little things like hurricanes and flooding, threatening us for a few months out of every year. So knowing that we’d have family in the Hill Country now made it easier to just decide. We were going to find a place, and we were going to make the area home.

And then a surprise…

When my mother and brother heard we were moving to the area, they decided it would be a good move for them as well. My mother is getting close to retirement, and my brother has been looking for a change. This seemed like a good time time take a leap, to start fresh.

So, they’re looking for they’re looking to move here as well.

Suddenly, the largest chunk of my family was now going to live in a completely different part of the state. And once that happened… well… home shifted position.

This is still a weird thing, and I still haven’t pieced out what any of it means. But in my mind things have shifted the way you might movie a pin in one of those map apps. The little red divot used to point to Sugar Land and its surrounds, and now it’s pointing to Cedar Park. And the old area is now just “a place I’m familiar with.”

Home, though, is here.

Here… not just in a place that’s familiar, but with people I love. Here, where I can swing by to help my mom with something in her place. Here, where I can go play golf with my father-in-law. Here, where my brother can swing by to check in on our house while we’re off on a road trip.

These are the things you do when you are home. These are the elements that make a home. The location has changed, but it’s still home.

It’s weird because my family is coming with us to a new world, a new experience. For the past 15 years, Kara and I have always been kind of out on our own when it came to our adventures. But this time, everyone else is coming along, too.

Reflecting on this, thinking about what it means to be home, to feel at home, to think of a place as home, is changing a lot about my perspective. It’s making me rethink a lot of the assumptions of my life. I was already comfortable with the “home is where you park it” concept of RV living, but now I’m realizing that it can go deeper than that.

Because one day, all those people who are my home may be gone. People pass, leaving you behind. It’s happened to me a lot. There’s a sense of loss that comes with it. And that loss, I now realize, is that part of my home fading. The threads of connection between me and that person, in that place, in that time—they thin out. They don’t snap. They’re always there. But they become more memory than reality.

When those people who are home are gone, I’ll still, somehow, feel at home wherever I am. I’ll still feel a connection to the people and the place. I’ll form new threads of connection. I’ll become more familiar. I’ll become more at home.

And I’ll be home for someone else.

Weird, right?

When Kara and I envisioned van life, it was all about road trips. We loved the idea of having our home with us, having a way to use the restroom, prepare a meal, take a nap, watch some TV, get a good night’s sleep—just somewhere other than where we always were. It’s been like that for about a month now, honestly. In fact, we’re two days shy of a month in the van. 

But we’re still in Houston.

So that was not something we envisioned. In fact, being in Houston in the Summer was something we were adamantly opposed to. If you’ve never been here, the breakdown is it’s hot, it’s humid, it’s twice as hot and humid as you were probably just imagining, and the closer you get to Houston, proper, the more allergy and lung issues you tend to have. Also, super more hot and humid than you’re imagining. 

The thought of weathering that heat and humidity in the travel trailer was bad enough, but doing it in the van seemed like a nightmare. And, to be honest, combatting those conditions has been a challenge. Our AC has run non-stop, and it’s proven inadequate to keeping things “crispy cool.” We end up having to idle the engine and run the in-dash AC for a couple of hours each day, to keep things below the high 80s to 90s.

We’re working on some solutions—like reflective screens for the windows. But that just means carrying something that takes up more space, requires more setup and breakdown, and blocks our view of the outside.

Or... we could go someplace where we can actually be outside without bursting into flames a la Dracula on beach day. 

We’ll get there. We’re just having to spend some time in Houston for a bit longer, get a few more doctor visits done, get a few more packages delivered, get a few more items moved in and/or out of storage.

That’s been an interesting and (admittedly) fun challenge: Getting things right.

For the most part, the van has everything we need. All our basic needs can be met, as long as we keep the reserve tank full of water and some food in the fridge. But as with society and culture as a whole, in our microcosm of existence, once you’ve met basic needs it’s time to start tinkering to increase the comfort, utility, and aesthetics of your environment. 

So for the past month, Kara and I have made some upgrades and tweaks. For example, we got foam mattresses with down toppers to go on top of the stiff cushions that came with the van. We’ve bought nice-looking quilts that add some color and visual interest, while also adding to our sleep comfort. We had the stiff back cushions that came with the van cut down so that they were narrower, and therefore not blocking our walking path as much (BONUS: I can also use one as a lap desk while I’m sitting on my bed).

To give us a little more fridge space, we bought a 12-volt-powered cooler fridge where we keep drinks and other items. It can be used as either a fridge or a freezer, and we have it hovering a little between the two. That’s handy, but it also doubles as a bench where I can sit and pull on socks and shoes in the morning. 

When we were in the travel trailer, we had two little USB fans that worked great, and stayed at our bedside. In the van, they’ve been a little more challenging to use. We don’t have “bedsides” anymore. But I was able to find two battery powered, USB-charged fans that have flexible tripods, allowing us to put them anywhere—even hang them from the cabinets above us so we can have a little more airflow during the day.

The van came with window coverings for the front, but they were bulky and didn’t help keep the heat out much. So I ordered a set of Heatshield reflective shades, custom fit for the Ford Transit. Those have made a huge difference, especially when combined with the existing screens. 

We’ve made some improvements outside the van as well. Since there’s no under-carriage storage, the way there has been in our previous RVs, we bought a StowAway hitch-mounted “trunk” to keep our camp chairs, outdoor stove, and hoses and power cables in. It’s worked out perfectly, especially with little wheel-hub organizers I have for our cables and hoses. 

But the thing I’m most proud of, outside the van, is that I installed quick-disconnects on the water inlet valves. In fact, if it involves water, going in or out of the coach, I have a quick-connect adapter on it. Thanks to this I’m able to set up or break down the whole thing in a few minutes—very handy for van life. We can go from over-nighting at an RV park to being on the road in under 10 minutes. Under 5 if I don’t have to refill the water reserves or empty the black and grey tanks. 

These modifications have been fun. They’re the kind of thing I seem to enjoy most about this lifestyle. I like thinking about ways to improve something, and then improving it. I’m carrying some basic tools with me—hand tools like a hammer, wrenches, sockets, pliers, screwdrivers, but also a battery-powered drill and saw. And, of course, my Swiss Army knife, the ultimate go-to tool. And with all of these, as compact as they are, I can do many things.

The key is to be able to think in terms of repurposing and using whatever you have to solve whatever problem comes up. I’m pretty handy, and can fix practically anything. My engineering background comes out, from time to time. But anyone can do this, if they’re willing to rethinking what they have and how it can be used. 

I used to love those little thought experiments where someone would give you and object and you had to think of as many ways to use it, aside from its intended purpose, as you possibly could, in just a few minutes. I still do that sort of thing on my own today. You should try it—it’s a great way to sharpen your creative problem solving skills.

As we move deeper into van life, I can already see that there will be challenges and issues and problems. It’s the nature of the thing. We live in a house that suffers a 5.0 earthquake every time we get on the road—stuff happens. And there will certainly be problems I can’t solve on my own, or can’t solve immediately. It’s the way it is.

But what I love most about van life is not only the challenge of solving those problems, but also the challenge of finding new and better ways to do things. I love having to think about everything I have with me—how many ways can it be used? Do I have something that could serve these two purposes, so that I don’t have to bring two different items? Can I make this thing work for that purpose, and leave that thing behind? 

I love it. I think it’s the way we all should think and operate. There’s something to be said for “the right tool for the job,” but there’s also something to be said for “don’t use a lack of tools as an excuse to not do the job.”

This is the stuff that makes a nomadic life fun.

Kevin Tumlinson is an award-winning and bestselling author, podcast host, and content creator. Follow Kevin and his adventures while traveling and writing by visiting AuthorOnTheRoad.com.

Buckhorn Lake RV Resort | Kerrville, Texas

When Kara and I first decided we were going to do this—live in a tiny travel trailer full time and move around in the country for a year or two—we had what I figure are the usual daydreams. I pictured us parking lakeside, the mountains in view on the horizon, trees forming a canopy overhead. I like being in spots where there are people, so in my head there were always families around. Kids riding bikes, swimming, paddling in canoes. 

And if it was a holiday—say, Independence Day here in the US—maybe there was some kind of fireworks show. People would grill outside, the smells would be wonderful. The atmosphere would be “endless summer.”

I know you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop...

But I have to say, most of that list gets a check, here at Buckhorn Lake RV Resort.

Ok, swap Texas hills for mountains, and the Guadalupe river and some creeks and waterfalls for the lake. Our spot doesn’t have much tree cover, but there’s a little.  But the kids and families are all around us, riding bikes and playing games and swimming in the pool. It’s definitely “endless summer.” 

4th of July Fireworks at Buckhorn Lake RV Resort

And as for the 4th of July—wow. 

These folks put on a heck of a show! In fact, they do the whole thing right, from the ground up. The day was filled with the smell of outdoor grilling, people were festive and enjoying themselves. There was a golf cart parade, followed by a Frito pie lunch, and later a delivered-to-your-door rib dinner that included the best watermelon I’ve had in a long while. And that evening, there was an ice cream social, leading up to a massive fireworks display. People cheered. It was... moving.

Before anyone gets too worked up, you should know that there was appropriate social distancing throughout. Frankly, that’s the way things are in places like this. People like each other, but we’re all here to spend time with our families, and we like to do our socializing from a comfortable distance. RV life may be the best form of social distancing there is.

We’ve been here in Kerrville, at Buckhorn Lake, since late May. This morning, as I write this, it’s our last full day here. I have to say, I’m going to miss it. 

Things have gotten so painful and frightening out in the world, Kara and I worried briefly if this plan to get on the road was gong to be nixed. We worried that we’d get out here and meet with nothing but suspicion and road blocks. We came out of an environment of fear, and we did worry that it would continue. 

But here, a lot of that worry and stress fell away.

Day one in Kerrville, Texas

I think part of it is just having the ability to move around a little, and see some of the world we haven’t yet seen. But I also think there’s an element of facing your fears in this. We grew afraid, for a minute, but getting out here showed us there was less to be worried about than we’d thought. 

Any new adventure comes with its risks and it’s worries. Things can go wrong. But that’s the point of adventure, when you stopped to consider it. Part of the fun is that it’s not always fun. Part of the joy of it is that you sometimes have to solve problems and figure things out.

Something I’ve learned about RV life is that it requires you to be continuously present and strategic. It forces you to consider everything you do.

If Kara and I are boon docking, we have only so much water onboard, and so much capacity for things like grey water and black water. We’ll eventually have to dump the tanks, and refill the reserves. So we have to be conscious and aware of that. 

The same goes for propane—we depend on it for everything from heating our water to cooking our food to running a generator, if it’s needed. We have three 15-pound tanks onboard, so we have to monitor that.

Our capacity to store food is limited by the size of our pantry and our refrigerator, so we have to be aware of those spaces. We’re also trying to eat healthier, so we have to consider all options there, and that turns out to not be so easy. What are our food staples? What’s a true must-have, and what can we do without? 

Same with clothes and belongings. I have a tiny little closet with a little hanging shelf system, and that’s where all my stuff goes. I have a backpack that contains all of my gear and equipment, and that’s shoved into a little nook under my side of the bed. My tools are in a little slide-out drawer in the outside storage bay, and I only have room for some essentials. We’re utilizing the bed of the truck, protected by a rolling bed cover, as a “garage” for things like chairs, bikes, and the generator.

We also have to think ahead on things like where we’re going next, whether there’s an RV campground we can stay in, or whether we need to go off-grid for a bit. What’s in town, and how close is town anyway? And, very important for us, is there good mobile internet coverage in the area? Is there a way to get online so we can do our work? 

There’s a lot to consider. A lot more than what we ever had to keep track of when we owned a house or rented an apartment. Basically, this little camper is our ticket to seeing more of the world, but it requires that we take 100% responsibility for keeping all the pieces moving. 

Then there’s the pandemic...

I almost hate writing about this, but it’s not a complete picture until I bring it up. 

Here in Kerrville, just an hour outside of San Antonio, things have been pretty well balanced. We still see signs of the pandemic here—masks, little signs on shop doors, X marks taped at six-foot “social distancing” intervals on sidewalks, etc. But I’ve been very happy to see that people are still living their lives. There aren’t very many instances of people flipping out over wearing or not wearing masks. None, in fact, since we’ve been here. People just do what they do, and let others do what they’re going to do. As it should be.

But there’s been a key shift in my thinking, when it comes to all of this. We are currently embarking on a new reality. Some of us don’t like it much, but that’s kind of irrelevant. This is our reality now, and for the foreseeable future. It’s our culture. And like it or not, we have to accept it for what it is. 

Once we accept reality, though, we can start working to change it. 

That’s the part people tend to forget. Accepting what is—reality—doesn’t mean you can’t work to change it.

This has been a tough and difficult lesson for me, but I finally get it. You can spend all your energy fighting and rejecting reality, and come away exhausted and with no wins. Or you can accept that this is how things are, and then use that energy to start doing something to change it, to make it better. 

That’s one of the lessons I’m taking away from this experience, getting on the road and living in Kerrville, Texas, for the past couple of months. There are two things, really:

One—life is sweeter, and we notice it more, are more present in it, if we take full responsibility for it and consider everything that needs to be considered. When our lives depend on each choice we make, we live our lives more fully. 

Two—fighting reality is a losing battle. Accepting reality doesn’t mean you lose. Accept reality and start working to change it, and you will win by default. Create something good in the world, and you win. 

And maybe three—it’s all just that simple.

Definitely going to miss this place

As we round things off here in the Texas Hill Country, and prepare for the next hop in this Author on the Road experience, I’m really happy to take away some good lessons. I’m happy that I’m seeing some growth in my life. I’m happy that it’s having a positive effect on every aspect of my life.

I’m writing more. I’m creating more content. I’m finding myself to be more positive, and feeling more free and liberated. 

This has been a good trip. I know that there will be times when things aren’t as sweet, aren’t as fun. But to start our journey, I can’t think of a better beginning. Kara, Mini, and I have all been very happy this past couple of months, and we’re looking forward to the next round.

And I can’t wait to bring you along with us.

Kevin Tumlinson is an award-winning and bestselling author and content creator. He and his wife, Kara, travel full time with their little dog, Mini, visiting places across the US that inspire Kevin’s writing. You can follow Kevin and Kara on their journey at AuthorOnTheRoad.com.