It was 1:33 in the morning when I saved the screenshot.
A 2002 Chevy Express, teal green, sitting on a gravel lot in Daytona Beach. Forty-two hundred dollars. Low miles. “No rust, no leaks, runs very smooth.” I stared at it far longer than a reasonable person stares at a used van at that hour. And somewhere in that staring, a plan I had been carrying quietly for a long time finally said its name out loud.
I am going to build a solo travel rig. And I am going to do it out in the open, with you.
Why a van, and why now
If you have followed the Solo Sojourn Project for any length of time, you know what it is about: solo women, public lands, and the quiet business of feeling safe and capable out there on your own. I have loved my little Ford Escape. It has carried me to Cary State Forest and out toward Ocala and back. But here is the honest truth about sleeping in an SUV at my age. You cannot sit up. You cannot stand. And when you wake at three in the morning needing the facilities, your only option is to unlock the door and step out into a dark campsite alone.
That last part is not a small thing. Talk to women my age who camp solo, and you will hear the same worry again and again. The middle of the night. The walk to the bathroom. The vulnerability of it. A van changes that entirely. Room to swing your feet out of bed, step to the middle where a seat used to be, and take care of yourself with the doors closed and the lights low. That is not luxury. For a woman traveling alone, that is safety, and it is dignity.
The dream underneath the plan
Years ago, at Stephen Foster Folk Culture Center State Park, I met a violinist. Every fall she arrived from Wyoming, and every spring she left again. She played for the museum and outside the gift shop, daily, in exchange for her campsite. She had a little Toyota camper, and she loved that life with her whole heart.
I have never forgotten her. She is, honestly, a piece of why this project exists. She built a life she adored out of a small rig and a skill worth trading, and she proved that the road stays open to us longer than anyone tells us it does.
So no, this van is not the end of the dream. It is the beginning of it. The van gets me out there now, recording real adventures, listening to real women, doing the work. The someday rig can come later, once this platform can carry it. First things first, and the first thing is wheels.
The honest part
I want to do this the Solo Sojourn way, which means truthfully. That teal Daytona van? I cannot buy it. I will not have the funds until early September, and a van priced that well will be long gone by then. That is fine. It did its real job. It showed me that a clean, low-mile Chevy in Florida is genuinely within reach. It lit the match.
Between now and September, I am on a stakeout. Learning the market. Watching prices. Building my buyer’s checklist so I do not get scammed and do not buy someone else’s headache. When the right one appears, I will have it inspected properly before a dollar changes hands, and I will bring you along for every step of that too.
Come with me
Here is where I need you. This is a community project, and it always has been.
- Follow along I will be documenting the whole hunt, the build, and the first trips, right here and on my channels.
- Subscribe, Like, comment, and share. Every share puts this in front of another solo woman who needs it. That reach is real help, and it costs you nothing.
- Chip in, if you are able and moved to. I have will open a way to support the rig fund soon, with the budget laid out honestly so you can see exactly what your help builds.
- Tell me your story. Have you slept in a car, a van, a little Toyota? What did you learn? I want to hear it.
I’m about 5′ 4″ tall and a round shaped person. So even though I may not be able to stand up in the van I will have a lot more room to move around than I currently do in my little black Ford Escape SUV.
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