Removing the Angled Panels and the Wiring Therein

Skoolie School II

Hello again! It's obvious, if you look at the archive bar, how little I really keep up with this blog. It's also obvious, if you've read the few posts I have so far, that our bus's construction is much farther progressed than what I'd documented in the one and only Skoolie School post.

So in an effort to devote more time to the blog (because I have so much to talk about!), here I am, devoting more time and effort. Haha! Anyway...

Removing the Angled Panels

So there are lots, and lots, and lots of these square-head screws holding the bus together (figure 1). Once again, you'll be using a power drill with a square bit (fig. 2) to remove them. 

figure 1

fig. 2 *

Now, don't get all crazy and remove all the screws. The ceiling would fall down on your head, and that would not be good. No, you must reverse engineer your bus. To begin, we're only removing the screws in the angled pieces that run above the window for the length of the bus (fig. 1). Go ahead and remove all the screws on all the angled pieces while you're at it (fig. 3). It's not a bad idea to hang onto these screws, just in case. You never know...

fig. 3

You may have noticed, while studying these images, that the angled panels overlap one another. Remove only the first panel on either side of the bus (fig. 4), the panel that's closest to the rear exit.

fig. 4

Now that the panel is removed, you can see where the wires for the rear lights are connected (fig. 5). Notice the big, white plugs? Those plugs connect bundles of wire from the rear lights to bundles of wire from the front of the bus. Don't unplug these just yet!

fig. 5

We're going to label these wires so, should we need to in the future, we can plug these back together without the guesswork. Observe (fig. 6) below. Each one of these plugs connected to a wire - or bundle of wires - with a matching plug. Before you unplug them, make a duct tape tag for each side of each plug, and code them with matching numbers, symbols, whatever. Then you can match them easily, if need be.

fig. 6 *

So it would be nice if that was that...but it's not. Along the sides are a bunch of speakers and emergency lights (of which I don't have a proper picture). Take your trusty drill and square bit, and remove all the screws. Go ahead and let them dangle down (fig. 7).

fig. 7

Now go back and unplug them all (fig. 8). Don't worry about labeling these wires, unless you're planning on wiring them into your skoolie, which we are not.

fig. 8

Once you're done, you should be able to remove the angled panels one by one, moving from the back of the bus towards the front, since that's how they overlap (fig. 9).

fig. 9

We are not keeping these, since we're going to do a more finished, home-y ceiling inside, and these have a rather institutional look to them. Off to the scrap yard with 'em, and the money will go back towards the bus later (fig. 10).

fig. 10

With the panels down, you'll be able to see that the plastic wire conduit is being held up by little clip thingies. Un-clip the clip thingies (fig. 11. This is the technical terminology. Hope you can keep up).

fig. 11

Nate coiled all this conduit up and set it at the front of the bus (figs. 12 & 13), and there it remains. We're still hesitant to mess with the pneumatic mechanics above the door, so he bundled up the wires just on the side of it. We'll deal with all that business inside the door later.

fig. 12

fig. 13

So that's that for now. We are quite farther than this, but documenting every little thing that is being done is harder than it seems. There's lots of things to go into, and a few I forgot out of order. So next Skoolie School, I will probably actually move backward, since I forgot to document the business with removing the flashing light from the top of the bus, deactivating the emergency buzzer at the rear door, and getting the bus up on jack stands. We'll get there eventually...

* Photo by Aubri Porter, aubriporter.com

Operation Big House, Tiny Kitchen

I'd been kicking around the idea of downsizing our dishes and utensils for a few weeks, when finally, a few Saturdays back, I up and did just that.

It happened rather unexpectedly. I didn't have a plan to purge our kitchen of its extra dishes before I found myself doing it. I had just gone to tackle a portion of the mountain of dishes that had piled up over the week when I hit a breaking point.

"I don't even need most of this stuff!"

And that thought did it. I was sick and tired of washing All. These. Dishes. It all suddenly made sense with a terrible clarity that eluded me before. I was caught in a vicious cycle of dirty plates, cups, bowls, etc. The more dishes I had, the more dishes we used before we finally ran out and I was forced to wash something so we could eat. And by the time there were no more clean dishes to be used, the amount of dirty ones was staggering, and required nearly a day to complete. That was if I tackled them all, which I rarely did in their entirety. 

(It's not easy to admit this about myself publicly, but it's true: I really, really stink at keeping up with dirty dishes...or laundry...but that's for another post.)

So I did what was necessary and began to go through all the cupboards to get rid of extra or unused items. Doing things like this used to make me feel mildly anxious, and as a result I ended up keeping [much] more than was necessary other times I'd purged. But this time around, it only took me a moment or two to decide for most things. I just began asking myself the same questions about every utensil or dish I pulled from its shelf or drawer.

1) Do I use this?

• If Yes, proceed to the next question
• If No, recycle, donate, or sell

2) Do I need this?

• If Yes, proceed to next question
• If No, recycle, donate or sell

3) Do I have multiples of this?

• If Yes, choose best one(s); recycle, donate or sell extra(s)
• If No, keep for time being

This method of going through cupboards meant realizing that I had dishes I never used, such as the orange plastic Philadelphia Flyers cup Nathaniel brought home for me after seeing Roger Waters perform The Wall in concert. I'd previously held onto it because it was a souvenir, it was the Flyers, it was blah blah blah. The conclusion I came to was that I was keeping this cup for reasons that had nothing to do with utility, so it got put into the recycle pile. 

There were things I used, but didn't need, like the eight hundred (give or take) clear plastic containers I'd saved to store leftovers in. No, it really wasn't that many, but when I'd exhausted that supply and had to wash them all, it sure felt like eight hundred. I resolved to only use the ceramic containers I had on hand when I needed to store something, and to eventually invest in a good set of stackable, sealable, reusable containers. I'm using the benefit of hindsight in writing this: I wish I'd kept some. We aren't spending bus fund money on stuff like this yet, what with bigger projects to finance first, so I'm definitely wishing I had saved a few small ones. It's not totally practical to have only a few large covered dishes for meals, and no smaller ones for opened cheese or half an onion, that sort of thing. Lesson learned.

Most of the multiples that needed to be decided upon were things like plates, bowls, cups and flatware. It's hard to write about what I did here without deteriorating into a simple list of "Six saucers, six salad plates, and so on...". So in a nutshell, I kept enough for all of us, with extras in case of guests or breakage, and little else. Other multiples, like two 13" x 9" glass baking dishes, were simpler decisions: we really only need one. Goodbye, duplicate.

So when it was all said and done, I'd gotten rid of approximately half of what was crowding up our cupboards and - more frequently - our counter top. Of the half that I decided had to go, approximately 50% will be donated, 25% will be recycled or trashed, and the last 25% are things I think I could possibly sell at the flea market.

So does this mean that I'm finally keeping up with the dirty dishes?

Does this answer that question?

Unfortunately, no. It was definitely part of my idea that I'd be washing dishes every day so we wouldn't run out, but I haven't been diligent on this. The Good News is that it takes much less time to wash the things I need when we run out. I've begun to do smaller loads more frequently, and it's easier to find the time to do it, too. I find that I can get a significant amount done just in the time I have dinner in the oven or on the stove.

As we get closer to moving onto the bus, I know we'll have to pare down what we have even more, and some things will need to be replaced. For instance, we're planning to switch most of our metal pots and pans over to cast iron, for the ease of use and cleaning. All of our ceramic plates and dishes will eventually be enameled metal, and likely our glasses will eventually be metal as well (mostly because since this bus will be mobile, we want as few breakable things as possible).

But I'm still glad I did it.

Even baby steps towards downsizing are helpful. There's still a long (long, long, long...) way to go, but I often remind myself that every little bit helps. Now if I could just keep caught up with the dishes...

Why Didn't I Think of This Sooner?

Hello, and welcome back to the saga of the True Crew: Part Two. It's been awhile since I've posted anything new about the bus, but in trying to compile a new Skoolie School post, I learned that Nathaniel's done many more little jobs than I realized. Anyway, there's at least one - possibly two - new tutorials in the works this next month or two. I had hoped to have another one up by now, but they are more time-consuming to write than I plan for sometimes. Everyday life kinda precludes writing about our bus in detail more often than not.

But lots of work has been done! I say that just as much to myself, because when I sat down to begin finding photos for another tutorial, I was a little surprised just how many photos we have of this bus. When I go into the yard, I usually bring the camera to document whatever I haven't yet documented; Nate captures the work he's doing as he does it. And I've had the distinct pleasure of my good friend Aubri Porter taking pictures for me to use gratis. It was she who took that swell shot that is the basis of my new banner up there. When I use her work, you'll know it for several reasons.

1) It's way better than anything I post of my own

2) Her nifty watermark. 

3) The asterisk denoting credit where credit is due.

Check out more of Aubri's work on her website's photoblog.

But returning to all these photos I have, I've decided that to maintain more of a consistent presence on this blog, I'll post not-yet-seen images of what's been going on inside our dear bus. We are (well, Nate is) much farther along in deconstructing the interior than my one measly little tutorial would have you believe. I'll be posting shots of different things going on in and around the bus and our home as we continue to work towards our goal. These are in addition to forthcoming Skoolie School tutorials, which will take longer and are less reflective of where we are currently at in our total renovation.

And let me stress that: this is going to be a Total Renovation, with capital letters. I read a blog recently about a kid growing up in a bus in a hippie commune back in the day. Honestly, the whole childhood experience the writer described sounded rather bleak and inhospitable to me, but she seemed to remember it fondly. In any case, her writing was enjoyable as she described it from her 3, 4 and 5 year old perspective. But that bus was essentially in the state that I describe our bus being in at the end of my last tutorial (seats removed, but not much else) They didn't change much other than to build some beds and cabinets inside. No power, no decent insulation, no real rehabilitation of a bus into a house. It sounded cold and creaky and dark and miserable to me.

But Lord willing, our bus is going to be comfortable and snug, but breezy and bright. It will have comfortable seating and bedding, and a sound, airtight body. We want a good flow between rooms when it's opened up, and comfortable-while-small private rooms with natural light when they're closed off. I want bright colors and interesting textures, to create a space that is at once busy and calm. A great place to relax and unwind, a real, tiny Home.

I've been adding "Lord willing" to most of my descriptions of the hopeful future of our bus. It all comes down to a few verses I read in the book of James - I don't remember how I found them. Now if you don't buy into this Bible stuff, just hang with me for a second. There's a kernel of truth here I think many of us can agree on. Anyway, here's the passage:

Come now, you who say, "Today or tomorrow we will go to such and such a city, spend a year there, buy and sell, and make a profit"; whereas you do no know what will happen tomorrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away. Instead you ought to say, "If the Lord wills, we shall live and do this or that." But now you boast in your arrogance. All such boasting is evil.

James 4:13-16

Basically what I got from this is that all our plans for this bus are just that: Plans. They haven't actually happened yet, and until they do, anything I say about them is speculation for the future. Our plans may change. I believe the Lord will sustain us no matter where our future takes us, but even though we are actively pursuing a homesteading lifestyle by taking this step, we can't predict where we end up. It's all in God's hands.

But I think what most of us would agree to, is that it's obnoxious when somebody brags about their plans as though they've already happened, when in reality they're miles away from accomplishing their goals. So I try not to give too much credence to our future plans, because I don't want to boast about something we haven't done yet. Not that I want to boast when it's done, mind you - nobody likes a braggart. But I think it will be more interesting for you to see it as it unfolds than to just hear me talk about how I want it to happen, and more enjoyable whenever we finally unveil the finished product.

So anyway. This was all kind of to say that I'll be posting lots of different pics of our bus. It's not a tutorial per se, but the captions are pretty informational, anyway. Except for my kids' initials; those are faked to help maintain their privacy. But whatever. Enjoy the show!

Nathaniel and R, our oldest daughter

The eponymous True Family (minus one), working and playing on the bus

Nathaniel and the open emergency escape hatch...

...And through the emergency escape hatch

Nathaniel examines the exterior fuse box

Man, that's a lot of fuses and wires. Glad he can learn the electrical side of things, because I think I'd be rather hopeless at it. I look at this and I'm instantly overwhelmed, haha!

Nathaniel checks out the battery storage, behind the front driver's side wheel, and below the fuse box. We may eventually add more batteries to create a solar power bank here, possibly moving these engine batteries elsewhere.

The ghost of our bus's past as a Krapf Coach. Heehee...

We've been collecting pallets to use for framing and furniture in the bus. Free pallets aren't too hard to find if you keep your eyes peeled when you're driving around.

Aubri's son and our middle daughter, M, frolic in the bus. Notice the watermark, and the asterisk.*

Windows*

Don't let the pigeons drive the bus!*

Rear view mirror*

Taping out where certain things in our floor plan will go. Thanks for the idea, Pinterest!

The biggest snowfall of the winter, and it happened in March. Thank God spring is finally here for real. Not fake, like March pretends to be spring. You don't fool me, March. I'm onto you.

So there's a little taste of what's been going on behind the scenes around these parts this past winter. Stay tuned for those tutorials...someday...

And til next time:

What led Leelee to suddenly purge her kitchen cupboards of over half of her dishes?

What does she plan to do with the things she's getting rid of?

And why is she writing in a large, bold font?

Tune in again soon to follow the continuing melodrama of the 

True Family, In:

Operation Big House, Tiny Kitchen

Part I

*Photos with an asterisk courtesy of Aubri Porter, aubriporter.com

Tiny Thoughts About A Large House

Since we came to the unlikely decision to move into a tiny house (and I'm just beginning to feel comfortable referring to the bus in this way. It's a bus...that we're turning into a house...that's just over 200 square feet. I guess it's a "Tiny House"), I've begun to recognize the feelings of dissatisfaction I'm harboring with the amount of stuff we have.

It's not that I want more.

It's that I want so much less.

Some stuff....

Don't get me wrong; we have some very nice things. And it's not that I want No Things. And it's certainly not going to be easy for me to give away or sell many of these things. Like I've said before, I attach sentimental value to just about everything. You can see from these pictures that my decorating style could be described as "Three Dimensional Collage".

But I've come to realize just how much all this stuff consumes my time. So much of my week is structured around the care and keeping of this stuff. These photos show a whimsical side of too many possessions; I'm purposely not showing the mountains of laundry (dirty and clean...but mostly dirty), stacks of used dishes in need of a wash, ever-expanding toy corners, and the fine dust that settles over everything the day after I clean.

...And more stuff...

I've started to wonder what our lives will look like without it all. How much more free time will we have when we reduce our possessions to the essentials and only those things that hold real meaning for us? What will the kids and I get to do when it's not necessary to stay inside nearly every day so Mama can catch up on laundry?

Yet when I look around, I know this is going to be hard for me.

Hard, not just because of the amount of work that's going to go into downsizing, but because I'm going to have to let go of things that I treasure for one [silly] reason or another. Hard, because I happen to like many of my Three Dimensional Collages. Hard, because the sooner I do this, the longer I'm going to live in a house that feels empty by comparison.

I'm aware it sounds more than a little contradictory to say in one breath, "I can't wait to have less stuff!" and, "What will my house feel like with less stuff?" But there you have it. It's hard.

...And still more STUFF!

Moving will be hard, too, because I love where we live now. 

It's huge for an apartment: 2,501 square feet, to be precise. There is more than enough room for both of us adults, our three small kids, and our black Labrador retriever. There's ample closet space. We have cathedral ceilings in our living room. I've got a studio, Nate's got a studio; we have a balcony that's as big as a studio apartment. We live above the place where Nathaniel, my mom, and stepdad all work, so we can get by with only one vehicle; I can ask my mom to run up and visit or watch the kids for short periods during the days she works. We even have a yard (with trees!). Not only all of this, but the rent is totally amazing. Like, "we can support our family on one income while living here" kind of amazing. No doubt, God totally blessed us when he brought us here.

I have told people - and myself - over and over that this is the place we're staying until we can finally afford to buy land. In this line of thinking, I reasoned that our family would be just fine in this house (apartment, whatever) for another decade or more. Actually, as I write this it occurs to me that we've just hit our fifth anniversary in this place; we moved here when I was super pregnant with our first daughter. Time flies. Anyway. We've got a lot of memories here; it's the first place I've lived since moving out of my parents' place at age nineteen that has honestly felt like Home with a capital H. And for all the quirks (drafts, mice, fake wood paneling, ugly carpeting, general disrepair that comes with an aging home), it's still a warm and inviting place.

It's funny how things change.

Like my aversion to tiny houses. I used to look at them and think, "I like the aesthetics. I like the storage. I like how people can build one themselves. I hate the lack of space."

And that's still kinda true, I guess. But since we'd begun talking about downsizing (tinysizing?), I began to realize how this enormous space impacted our daily lives. One, it's a lot to clean, so much of my week revolves around simply keeping all this space tidy (to varying degrees of success). Two, with all this space, it's simply too easy to justify bringing in more stuff without taking out a corresponding amount. Even after getting rid of a lot this past summer, there's still a shocking amount of stuff to go through. Three, all the shouting.

Parents of young kids can relate, I'm sure. It's not that I'm shouting at them, it's that they're shouting at me. If we happen to be in different rooms, my girls see nothing wrong with shouting across the house to talk to me. No matter how many times I stress that they should come close when they want to say something, it rarely occurs to them to do so. And how silly is it to shout back, "Quit yelling! Come here when you want to talk to me!"

Now, when contemplating living in less than a tenth of the space we currently occupy, I think, "How great; a place for everything and everything in its place."

"How lovely, to simply go outside when the space feels just too small."

"How manageable, to only keep what we truly want."

There's nothing inherently better about a tiny house. It's just a different way to live. A way that I think would suit Nathaniel, myself, and the girls. So we can take the focus off of our space, our stuff, and all that goes into both, and begin focusing more on the things that truly matter to us. Our faith, our family, our friends, our goals, and the world around us.

Sounds good to me.

So Long, Seats

Every day or so, one of us will look at the other and say, "Babe! Guess what?"

"What?"

"We got a bus!" 

Cue the happy dance.

How you doin'?

Seriously, though, we're super psyched about starting this skoolie conversion. Nathaniel particularly so, because he confessed to me a few months ago that he really missed having a hobby to work on. With the bus, he can work on something he truly enjoys without feeling like it's time misspent; after all, he's technically working on our future house. So it's enjoyable and productive. Win win!

Since the bus arrived, he's been heading down to the backyard to work on the bus whenever it fits into our schedule. He's had some help from a friend, but is figuring out that certain things he thought needed two people to get done, could actually be done by him alone. Whatever work gets done on this bus will be documented in this blog, in the hopes that others looking to convert a bus to a skoolie will find some valuable resources here.

I will note that this post has been in the making for a few weeks; it's hard to find time to do a tutorial blog while simultaneously keeping two preschoolers and a baby alive and fed and not living in chaos.

Parking the Bus

It might seem a little superfluous to start out with a section on parking, of all things, but here's why:

Here's the takeaway from this: if anyone involved doubts that the ground is solid enough to drive on, maybe you should reconsider ;) Just sayin'.

Anyway, with a few minor hiccups, Nate eventually got the bus parked out behind our place (with our landlord's blessing, of course). All the tires are currently resting on plywood sections to avoid dry rot. We're soon going to be investing in a bottle jack and some jack stands so we can raise the wheels off the ground, but for now, this is an acceptable solution.

Removing the Seats

The Bolts

In our bus, there are 24 seats total - twelve on each side. As you can see in the photo below, the steel seat frames for our bus have legs that run up the center aisle of the bus. The other side of every seat rests on a metal ledge that runs the length of the bus, below the windows. In this particular photo, you can see the wheel well that rises under the seat; this will be something we need to take into consideration once we start designing the floor layout. Anyhow, the bolts on the legs go clear through the floor and emerge on the undercarriage. The bolts on the sides simply anchor the seat to the ledge and nothing more.

Top Left: Bolt behind the seat, fastened to rail. Top Center: a seat not yet disassembled. Top Right: Floor bolts.
Bottom: The floor bolts as seen from under the bus

Seat rails on the left, the flipped-up bench on the right. Notice the bolt holding the rails to the bus in the picture at right.

The Benches

So in the left image, you can clearly see the rails and one leg of the seat frame, and the plywood, cushion, and vinyl bench in the image to the right. The bench here has been flipped up, and you can see the two c-clamps that hold the bench to the curved seat rail. The rusty piece, screwed to the plywood, swivels to latch the bench to the rail. The rail in turn rests on a ledge that runs the length of the bus, about 10” off the ground. Looking at our first photo, it's hard to see this ledge per se, since it's obscured by the mound of the wheel well. However, if you look closely at the second pic, you can sort of see this ledge under the left side of the rail. Nate used a power hand drill with a Phillips head bit to unscrew these three pieces of hardware. He stacked all the bench seats in the back of the bus to be reused later. The foam under the uncomfortable vinyl appears to be in good shape, judging from the bits we can see through the drainage holes in the plywood, and should be great for couches and seats in the future. We'll scrap some of the steel seat rails and put the money back into the bus, but we're hanging onto a few in case we can reuse them in the future.

Images via Here, Here and Here

Two People

Nate and his friend Eric first tried removing the bolts that held the legs to the floor with a breaker bar and a pneumatic (air-powered) impact wrench with a hex socket attachment. The impact wrench was powered by an air compressor similar to the one shown here. The idea here was that one person would hold the bolt still with the breaker bar, and the second person would use the impact wrench to loosen and remove the bolt. I should mention here that while some of the tools Nate uses in working on the bus are from his personal collection, he also has the benefit of borrowing tools from the business where he works. It can certainly be more economical to rent or borrow things than to buy, if it's a tool you won't be using all that often.

They employed two different approaches to leg bolt removal, but each proved less than satisfactory.. Eric first used the breaker bar inside the bus, with the idea that he could brace the bar against the seat rails for extra leverage. Nate was under the bus with the impact wrench. This was troublesome because the rust on the bolts under the bus made them prone to getting stuck in the socket of the impact wrench. So they switched tools. With the impact gun inside the bus, it was slightly easier to loosen the bolts, but there were still inherent problems. For one, the air compressor made communication nearly impossible; it was too loud for them to speak to each other while working. Secondly, the rust was stripping the faces of the bolts, rendering the breaker bar useless; you can't hang on to a hex bolt if it's suddenly round. Third, both methods created a good bit of rust dust that showered the person working under the bus.

Anyway, between the two of them, they removed as many bolts as possible in this second fashion. There were still bolts remaining in the floor that couldn't be removed because of the stripped heads, so they returned to them later with a slightly different method.

Having done as much as they currently could to remove the floor bolts, both guys went back inside the bus, each armed with a 1/2" hand ratchet and a box wrench, which you can see in Nathaniel's hands here. They set to work removing the bolts mounting the seat rails to the ledge, holding the nut still with the box wrench and using the ratchet to loosen the nut. They loosed the bolts for ten seats, then returned to the stripped floor bolts. One person went under the bus with a vice grip to hold the bolt still, while the second person used the impact wrench inside.

By the time both guys were ready to call it quits for the night, they had removed ten whole seats. The remaining fourteen were left for Nathaniel to revisit to a few days later.

One Person

After several days, Nathaniel returned to the bus solo with the intention of finishing the removal of the seats. Each seat had two bolts attaching the rails to the ledge: one bolt positioned behind the back of the seat, and the other "inside" the rails, only visible when the bench is flipped up or removed (see the picture of the bench seat above). For the bolt behind the seat, the box wrench and hand ratchet worked fine. However, the bolts towards the front of the rails were a little trickier to remove in this way, so he used the box wrench with a power hand drill, equipped with a 1/2" socket attachment. This method would work fine for anyone, whether working alone or with help.

There were still some stripped floor bolts that the two guys hadn't removed, but being only one person, Nate had to come up with another method to handle them by himself. The method that follows is one he wishes they would have started with for ease of removal. So anyway, if you're looking to remove seats in a bus of your own, I recommend starting with this one. Using an angle grinder fitted with an abrasive cutting wheel (ACW), Nate tackled each bolt in the manner illustrated below. Word to the Wise: this will take multiple ACWs, so don't worry if you find you're using a bunch to accomplish this. That's just how it goes.

Using these tools and methods, Nathaniel was able to remove the remaining fourteen seats in one afternoon. And all by himself, too.

Ahh...it's so much easier to envision living in here now.

Next time we catch back up with the bus, it'll be to discuss some more interior demolition. We're taking this bus down to the framing and building it back up from there, so we'll be documenting how to remove the panels and beginning to make sense of all those damn wires behind them. We'll keep you posted.

We're Not Crazy...

...But we did buy a school bus...to turn into a house.

So we may be a little crazy.

There she is!

Nate and the as-yet-unnamed bus

Me in back

You may be asking yourself, "Why on God's green earth would a family of five want to move into a school bus?"  Turns out, there's a lot of reasons.

Reason 1: Downsizing.

We've got a huge apartment right now, which is great. What's not so great is all the stuff we've got in this huge apartment. We're a couple with pack rat tendencies. Too often, one of us (usually me) would bring something home simply because it was free, not because it was needed. And too often, things we could give away languish in cupboards or the attic, forgotten and unused. Sentimental value gets attached to everything. And don't get me started on all the stuff waiting to be used in future art projects. Collage is the enemy of tidiness.

Reason 2: Decreased Cost of Living

We're not foolish enough to think that we'll be living for free. There's the cost of gas, the cost of a campground, the cost of buying property to park on. But to pay cash on this as we go along means that once this bus is done, it's ours. No more paying rent on something that we love but ultimately don't own. Cut out the cost of heating a drafty house, and we're already saving several hundred dollars every month.

Reason 3: Fulfilling a Dream 

A weird dream, but a dream nonetheless. Nathaniel (my husband) and I have long wanted to build our own home and homestead, but until fairly recently, the bus was something only I desired. But when we began to talk about relocating from Lancaster County, PA, there's was always the sticky wicket of a place to live while we built our dream home. With a converted school bus - or skoolie, how badass does that sound? - our home comes with us wherever we go. Not to mention that while it's only a temporary home while we gear up for bigger things, we build it ourselves. So it's the start of fulfilling a dream.

Reason 4: Flexibility

Here's where some of you are going to roll your eyes. But in all honesty, part of this dream of homesteading involves cutting our cost of living far enough that we can make a small but decent living "doing our own thing." We plan to garden, and hopefully to raise small livestock like chickens or fish (yes, fish). I have a small handcrafted soap company with big plans to expand into other natural wares, like body care and cleaning products. I love doing collage, working with felt, sewing, and would love to refinish furniture. Nathaniel carves wood, forges knives and swords, loves engineering, and is an incredibly talented artist, if I do say so myself. With the internet at our disposal, we hope that we can make enough of a living selling our wares online and at craft fairs to provide for our family. Doing so would afford us the ability to travel more freely, and to be able to come back to PA for a month or more in the summer to visit our families.

Reason 5: Why Not?

'Nuff said. Skoolie living ain't for everybody, but if we want to do it - and have a clear vision and the ability to do it - why shouldn't we?

There's undoubtedly going to a lot of bumps in the road as we go forward, and we've got a whole range of emotions about the prospect of leaving the only area either of us has ever known, but we're dedicated to this. While the end result of where we end up and what we do once we're there might change over time, we both agree that this skoolie is where we want to start.

So stay tuned, this is gonna be interesting.