WASHINGTON — I was standing outside the back of my van, doors open, brushing my teeth in the brisk February air, when the camp host rolled up in his lightly rusted pickup truck, glaring at me. “Good morning!” I said cheerily, spitting toothpaste onto the pavement, already knowing I was in trouble.
See, I was trying my hand at #vanlife, and the particular van I was standing behind was one I’d rented—and apparently parked illegally in what I’d thought was a free RV campground outside Santa Fe, where I work as an editor for Outside. I was living out of the renovated Ford Econoline with the goal of seeing whether a mobile home could shake my deskbound editor self out of my routine nine-to-five, while still allowing me to hold down said job. Could I cash in on the perks of nomad life without actually being a nomad?
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