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Buckle up for some of the harder truths about van life — from someone who's learned them for himself.
Before getting my van, I was used to riding around the streets of Sydney on a little Vespa scooter, which on a bad day costs me no more than $10 to fill.
Of course, even with my lack of engine knowledge, I knew a tank of fuel for the van was going to cost a lot more than 10 bucks. But, in my head, the price of fuel was always going to work out cheaper than paying to stay in either a hotel or an AirBnb — van life was going to be worth it, financially.
Little did I know that petrol was going to hit record-breaking costs in 2022. Now, what was already a hard expense to swallow is even worse — meaning the price of fuel alone will take a not-so-nice chunk out of your wallet.
The thing about having a van is that it's not just a tent alternative at a campsite — it's your mode of transport, too.
It's how you drive to the supermarket, to the beach or anywhere else your heart desires — and vans tend to be on the larger side.
On more than one occasion I turned to drive into some sort of underground car park only to discover that my van didn't meet the height restrictions. Cue an incredibly awkward moment causing all the cars behind me to have to reverse out too.
In NSW, before the pandemic, free national park campsites that you could rock up to without a reservation were in abundance.
When I first bought my van I'd imagined being able to check the weather on a Thursday and, if it looked good for the weekend, jumping into the van the next day to zoom off somewhere — ~anywhere~ — no problem.
NSW national parks understandably had to put some sort of system in place to track their visitor numbers while pandemic restrictions were in place. But this means that now (as this process is yet to be dissolved) you not only have to book ahead, but you have to put a payment down too.
There are campsites that offer beach views. But nowadays, unless you've booked these (often months in advance) then there's a pretty slim chance that you'll be able to get a spot in any of them.
"So I'll just park up in a beach car park for the night then," you might think to yourself.
The problem is, you pretty much can't. Most beach-side car parks along the NSW coast specifically prohibit overnight camping.
Anyone who spent any time along Australia's east coast at the beginning of 2022 will remember the catastrophic flooding that a second year of La Niña brought our way.
There's a low-level of anxiety that's almost present the entire time you drive a van. Will it turn on? What's that light that just came on? Is that smell coming from my engine?
A lot of vans have been around for a while and, unlike a good wine, they don't always get better with age.
My biggest piece of advice: PAY FOR ROADSIDE ASSISTANCE. I promise you will not regret it after spending eight hours stood by the side of the road.
One story you come across all the time if you follow any van lifers on the socials is this one: quitting your job, selling all of your belongings, working some kind of 'remote online marketing job', and driving like Thelma and Louise until there's no tomorrow.
But let's be real, that's not a story most of us can afford. For a lot of people, myself included, van life is something you do when you can — like over weekends or during the holidays.
With a limited amount of time for your trips, you're also limited to travelling to places that are far away but not too far and, after a certain period of time, trying to find new places can become a bit harder.
I know, I know, it's a corny way to finish — but it's true.
Despite everything — the expensive costs that come with getting started, the extortionate price of fuel, the constant frustration of trying to find a campsite and even the eight hours stranded by the side of a broken down vehicle — it really does all still somehow feel worth it to have a taste of van life.