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Elizabeth Hensley
By Elizabeth Hensley
We were approaching the two-year anniversary of our first trip across the United States. Upon my acceptance to graduate school in Georgia, my husband Richard and I packed up everything into a 6x12 ft trailer and I did what any good grad student would do: haul butt across the country. From southern California to Atlanta, Georgia, we passed through sleepy towns and big cities in our Chevy Equinox and cargo trailer.
Our love of travel has long been a big part of our relationship. We met in 2010 working aboard Norwegian Cruise Line's Pride of America in Hawaii, but for the past five years, Richard has supported my return to college. As I inched closer to graduation, we pondered what we might do next and I contemplated life outside a semester schedule. For our next chapter, I wanted to support him.
Looking back, it was a dream I never took seriously. He would say, "I could live in a van" or "I could live in the woods." Lately, he'd been talking more about living off the grid, a term I barely understood. This started us on the path of full-time RV-ing, and a step out of my comfort zone to join him.
As we began looking for RVs, we gravitated toward class Cs, but it became clear with our budget of $10,000 USD that the ones we could afford would be several years old or high maintenance. Vans were too cramped and a bit over our budget, as well. But then we found videos of converted school buses. We were hooked, loving the unique DIY style.
We bought our 1996 Thomas International school bus in April 2018 for $2,500 USD. It was fresh off a sports academy in Bradenton, Florida, full of ratty seats, golf tees, and bubblegum. It was the first bus we looked at and in hindsight, I now know, we had no idea what we were getting ourselves into.
Almost immediately we had to replace the four back tires, which cost nearly as much as the bus. We also learned how hard it is to insure a school bus as a recreational vehicle. Sitting in a supermarket parking lot in Bradenton, Richard and I called dozens of insurance companies refusing to talk to us after learning about our bus. Finally, a State Farm agent agreed to add it to my existing policy if I sent pictures of specs from a bathroom, bedroom, and cooking area. This got us to Georgia legally but expired before we could finish the renovation. Eventually, we insured it as a commercial vehicle (enter Little House on the HWY), forking over nearly $3,000 USD for the year. We took the hit because it protects our investment in the bus, opens up opportunities to advertise and Richard already had a CDL license.
Now that we had the bus, another challenge was telling everyone. By far the hardest was telling family and close friends, afraid they might echo fears we were dealing with ourselves. In one case, we used the element of surprise to start the conversation. Richard's sister, who lives near where we purchased the bus, was the first to know. Upon hearing the growl of a diesel engine, she came out of her house and said, "Why is there a school bus in my driveway?!" Richard just smiled and proceeded to tell her our plans.
Next came the conversion. Anyone who has renovated or built a home knows it is a million projects in one. Each one tested our knowledge, abilities, and patience. Some projects seemed endless - like grinding out rust from our bus's floor after seat removal (see our video, "Rusty, Dusty Floor"), but the labour was always laced with the satisfaction that we were building our home on our own terms. At night we tucked the bus into a storage facility a mile from our house, keeping it off the street and us in the good graces of our neighbours.
Getting on the road was our priority, so we aimed for a speedy departure. In late May we submitted notice to our landlord to leave August 1. Privately, we debated about moving in September, but opted to go earlier so I could get acclimated to the road before starting my final semester, which I had arranged to complete online.
As our date to move out loomed, downsizing became essential. Overall, Richard and I sold or donated three motorcycles, both cars, 90 percent of our furniture and kitchenware, and most of our clothes. Estate sales and selling online helped us make friends with people we would otherwise not have known and we were surprised by how much money we saved by getting rid of our old stuff. But nothing could fully prepare for moving into the bus.
Because of our timeline, we knew we wouldn't have plumbing installed before we left. Our solution for this (and a way to ease inquiring minds) was purchasing Planet Fitness Black Card memberships to take showers, workout, and stay centered on our journey. There are approximately 1500 locations, many of which are open 24 hours Monday to Friday, providing refuge and familiarity on the road. It's one of the best decisions we made. It feels great to indulge in a hot shower and hydro-massage after a long day of driving.
Toward the end of the conversion, we worked so tirelessly that we neglected to make a plan - not something we recommend. We spent our final night in the house cleaning and ironing curtains for the bus, while surrounded by the incoming tenant's boxes. There was no power in our bus and it was so loaded with stuff we couldn't move it. Instead of riding off into the sunset as I had imagined, we quietly slipped into the storage facility and stayed there for the next several days before driving to Savannah. I felt hopeless and defeated at first, but Richard was there to comfort me with his exhilaration about our new journey.
Crossing the States again with no end in sight, I now embrace the ever-evolving scenery at my desk on the bus in a whole new way. We still don't have power or plumbing, but I look up from time-to-time to see Richard at the wheel, content as we ramble along. Although our initial introduction to full-time RV life began in a humbling way, the struggles were worth it. It provided the time and experience we needed to make it on the road. This chapter is no longer his dream, now it belongs to both of us.