Josie's Way

There’s a certain romance to traveling the back roads in a 42-year-old VW Vanagon camper named Josie. She’s no sleek modern marvel, but she has something better: character. Josie is a boxy, unhurried beast, painted a faded shade of Assuan Brown and Cream that once gleamed in the sun, now softened by the years. Her engine purrs with the steady rhythm of an old friend, though it sputters and coughs now and then, a reminder that time waits for no machine. But it’s in those sputters and coughs, in the unpredictable breakdowns along the way, that the true spirit of the journey emerges.

Josie is more than just a vehicle; she’s a companion, a trusty steed on this wandering quest through America’s forgotten byways. There’s something about her that draws people in, makes them stop and stare, maybe even smile. You see, Josie isn’t just carrying me from place to place—she’s carrying stories, memories, a life lived on four wheels. And when she pulls into a small town, she does so with a quiet dignity, like an old traveler who’s seen it all but still finds wonder in the world.

The breakdowns are inevitable, of course. You don’t travel in a 42-year-old van without expecting a few hiccups along the way. But that’s part of the adventure, part of the charm. One day, you might find yourself on the side of a dusty road, the sun beating down as you stare at an engine that’s decided it’s had enough for now. Maybe it’s the alternator this time, or a belt that’s snapped and left you stranded miles from anywhere. It’s frustrating, sure, but it’s also a chance to slow down, to really see where you are. You set up camp where you stand, make a pot of coffee on the old propane stove, and wait for help to come—or for Josie to decide she’s ready to roll again.

Josie isn’t just carrying me from place to place—she’s
carrying stories, memories, a life lived on four wheels.

And help always does come. That’s one of the joys of traveling in a van like Josie. She has a way of attracting the right kind of attention. Folks in small towns recognize something in her—maybe it’s nostalgia, maybe it’s a kinship with something well-worn but still useful. They’ll come out of their houses or their shops, and they’ll offer a hand. It’s not just about fixing what’s broken; it’s about the connection made in those moments. The shared stories over a greasy engine, the laughter at some absurdity of the situation, the kindness of strangers who become, if only for a little while, part of your journey.

Josie’s appeal lies in her imperfections, in the way she forces you to embrace the unexpected. She’s not fast, and she’s not fancy, but she’s steady and true. She makes you slow down, take notice, and appreciate the little things—like the sound of rain on her metal roof, the way the sun sets just right through her windshield, or the simple pleasure of a meal cooked on the road.

Traveling with Josie is more than just a road trip. It’s a lesson in patience, in resilience, and in finding joy in the journey, no matter where it takes you. And perhaps, most importantly, it’s a reminder that the best stories are often found off the beaten path, in the breakdowns and the unexpected detours, where the real adventure begins.