I will be “building out” Nautilus this spring and summer.
I named my Sprinter van after the submarine that Captain Nemo piloted in Jules Verne’s prophetic tale of adventure, Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Seas. Consider that Step One in the camper van building process.
What’s Step Two?
I’ll need to start by making a solid subfloor as a foundation for almost everything else I do: a bed with storage underneath, a cabinet with a small sink and a foot pump, a countertop for my one-burner butane stove. And I’ll have to build and “float” a bookshelf way up near the ceiling, along one side.
To accomplish all this I invested in a few power tools: a six-inch DeWalt circular saw, a five-inch DeWalt random orbital sander, a ¼-inch-shank router, also by DeWalt, and a DeWalt jigsaw. I also got two extra DeWalt batteries. (I already own a drill that doubles as a screwdriver. Not surprisingly, it’s a DeWalt.)
They’re all cordless, powered by almost magical state-of-the-art rechargeable 20-volt lithium iron phosphate batteries. Since I won’t need to plug the tools in anywhere to work, if I can recharge the batteries at night, I’ll be able to work on the van build almost anytime and anywhere — where I usually park, down the hill from Wesleyan University; the parking lot at The Home Depot on Washington Street, where I will buy my lumber and fasteners; at the shore, in the sprawling dirt parking lot at Hammonasset, if the DEP officers don’t kick me out first; or even while I’m on the road.
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I’ve spent most of my adult life thinking about what I would do with a van, if I had one.
When I was 16 and tired of the grind of high school, I nearly bought a vintage flat-nose Chevy van with a 3-speed column shift for my cross-country escape, powered by rock and roll. I came to my senses just in time, went back to school in the fall, and graduated two years later — vanless, but in better stead.
Then I was 18 and just out of high school. I had spent summers painting houses with a friend I’ve known since kindergarten. We made pretty good money, and I figured I could continue to make good money painting on my own, so I was going to build shelves in a brand new Dodge van and start a small business. Realistically, I had no regular income; the Dodge dealer never would have financed the van, even though I was confident I could make enough money to meet the monthly payments. But I didn’t have to worry about van payments: I landed a job at the Oyster Bay Yacht Service instead. For the record, I did plenty of painting at the boatyard.
There were other times, other ideas, other plans, but none of them took hold. Now, I have the van, the momentum, the time, and the tools. I have already bought wood and have been drawing lines where I plan to make cuts with my new battery-powered saws. Measure twice, cut once, or so I’ve been told.
This is a van plan that is coming together. It’s about time.
Letters from Away 