van life horror stories

At worst, a crapshoot that often ends in disaster. He must have only just realised we were in the car at that moment too, because he paused for a minute. Interior lights are off. Aware that a diagnosis of Dengue or Malaria could be a serious problem we were nervous to find out. The Sunday Times/Baris Simsek/iStock/Getty … I go back to the battery bank, check it like 10 times, ensure everything is hooked up right, it is. The track continued to deteriorate and we continued to bump along down the washed-out old goat track. Finally we received the news we had been waiting for. A busy garage surrounded by vans and tuk-tuks, with five or so staff scurrying around doing nothing but prying off tyres and rolling them to and from the shop seemed like a safe bet. I am stuck, in the sand, by myself, with a dead ambulance. I cursed, loudly, at my luck. I was happy to let him make this mistake. I feel this lol. “There’s whaaat…” I murmmered rubbing my eyes. Drowsy and struggling to find my bearings in the pitch-black, I swung myself out of bed, fumbled for the door handle, wrenched open the door, and jumped out of the car. After a quick dinner of grilled cheese, we crawled into the back of the van and passed out. Some thinking days, some shrieking excitedly that it could be a month or more. Short, small, thick, different connectors, etc. Anyone here with horror stories to share (while van dwelling)? Around midnight, as we were falling asleep to the sound of the rain outside, someone came past the car and tried to open the locked doors. We spent another night being terrorized by wild vermin. This post contains affiliate links, which means we may receive a commission if you click a link and purchase something that we genuinely recommend. The fever hadn’t broken yet and I wasn’t able to eat. Still reeling from the weekend I struggled through the lessons. The wires used on the old batteries are like 0-gauge, and super tight. Turned a quick drive into an 11hr adventure. I pressed on for the Hidroelectrica outside Santa Theresa (the closest you can get by road to Machu Picchu). Sure enough, the lock barrel on our passenger door had been removed and a handful of items the thief had managed to grab in their panic missing. I then give it one last ditch effort and call my electrical friend (who is already in glamis). I decided it would be easier to finish up my lesson then explain the situation and I silently thanked god for both the miracles and the limitations of technology that allowed me to sit here teaching in my own excrement. I was counting down the seconds to the end of my third shift, stirring the food which didn’t seem to be getting any closer to resembling anything cooked or palatable. The King Opera House in Van Buren is another long-standing building that has its own ghost story. That evening we drove for another few hours along a road that steadily declined in quality and in width, until we were shaking along a very dilapidated one-lane road (albeit still on asphalt). It is now 11pm. No problems rest of the weekend. Relieved that our gas fire was out we tidied up what we could, before retiring to the van for a hearty meal of bologna sandwiches and Chilean table wine. I love this story. (I will do a build on this soon) I leave it out in a secure storage yard 180 miles from my house in the middle of the desert, but on my way to Glamis where i typically use it the most. We started off again, once more braving the sketchy cliff-side roads between Santa Theresa and Santa María. With Kelli off exploring the Amazon with her mom, I decided to travel to Macchu Picchu and hike to the ancient citadel myself. After some negotiations in broken Spanish, we found a car that would take us to Santa María for 40 soles. Come back that afternoon vans gone. We were delighted that my sister Isobel was coming to visit us in Mexico in Septemeber 2019. Do something, throw some water on it!”. The woman continued in the same soft manner as if she had misplaced a book. I see the routes I need to take, which ones go where. Check the front!”. But now it was too late. I made sure the van was ready to roll at the drop of a pin, then went inside for snacks and went to bed. Guiltily I carried the trap and tiny mouse to a trash can nearby. Outside the cafe, as I limped toward where our car was parked, Kelli, was finding it hard to stifle her laughter. We didn’t have to wait long before the scratching of the mouse let us know that the mouse was o the prowl. Except that it ends with beer and chill. My sister exited the car and backed up to get a better vantage of how this was going to play out.

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