One Long Shortcut

Chapter 29: Leveled-ish Living There was a time when Nelson and I would obsessively fuss over whether the van was perfectly level, adjusting blocks and moving the van back and forth like overpaid surveyors. These days, we’ll happily sleep at a slant steep enough to make standing from the toilet feel like climbing out of a canyon. Growth, apparently, is measured in degrees of tilt. Nelson worked from “home” in the morning before vanishing to an AI conference at Crystal Bridges. I, denied parking at the museum, consoled myself with boxed sushi and a matinee of Eddington . Billed as a dark comedy, it turned out to be more of a slow-motion existential crisis starring Joaquin Phoenix. Excellent film, but the gory finale made me grateful for mall air-conditioning and $9.50 tickets. Dinner was “meh” pho that tasted like salt water with noodles, followed by a nighttime arrival at Natural Falls State Park, Oklahoma. Going to the bathroom close to midnight, I nearly gave myself a heart attack...

Chapter 24: The Art of Sweating in Silence Image credit: Arkansas Storm Tracker Zachary Hall Our grand 'homecoming' began with stealth camping in a local park, which is a fancy way of saying “parking badly in the dark and pretending to be invisible.” Nelson, bless him, decided we needed to operate under submarine conditions: no windows, no lights, no talking. It was like playing hide-and-seek with ourselves, except instead of giggling we just lay there sweating, stuck to the sheets like two slices of cheese left on the dashboard. By dawn, I hadn’t slept a wink, and Nelson was still convinced someone was about to knock on the van and cart us off to jail. If vanlife teaches you anything, it’s this: paranoia and humidity make an excellent team. Chapter 25: Old Ladies in Straw Hats We fled the park at 6 a.m., which is an absurd time to be alive, let alone driving. After errands and our first depressing encounter with the U.S. Postal Service (“your mail is here, but also isn’t”...

Chapter 21: Hooked Up and Loving It Crossing into Arkansas, we landed at Hot Springs National Park—probably the dumbest possible destination in the middle of July. But this was our very first time ever on full RV hook-up (water, electric, sewer). Translation: I could leave the tap running like a spoiled suburbanite and Nelson could rinse dishes without me yelling “SAVE THE WATER!” It was glorious. Our creekside site was lovely, dinner was bell pepper beef stir-fry al fresco, and the flies tormented Nelson so much that he tormented me in return. Romance! Chapter 22: Barbershop in the Wild Late brunch (smoked salmon, scrambled eggs, berries), then Nelson’s “back-to-work” prep began: an outdoor haircut under the sunshade. Nothing says vanlife glamour like me snipping away while he sat in a $10 camping chair with a barber cape fluttering in the breeze. It was awkward, hilarious, and surprisingly effective—we proved that yes, you can cut and color your partner’s hair in the great out...

Chapter 20: From Fried Chicken to the King After a slightly underwhelming stop at Gus’ “world famous” fried chicken (dry bird, slow service—fantasy officially crushed), we camped at T.O. Fuller State Park , where even using the bathroom turned into a saga. Nelson insisted on searching for a non-existent camp host before finally asking a group of beer-soaked fishing bros, who happily handed over the world’s longest pin code to the facilities. At least the bathrooms turned out to be five-star fancy for a state park. Highlight of Memphis was to pay our dues to the King. Graceland turned out to be so much more than “Elvis’ house.” Going in, I only knew him as “the Cat King” (what we called him in Taiwan when I was little), but walking through felt like stepping into a 1970s time capsule of extravagance. The media room boasted three TVs side by side — apparently Elvis needed to keep up with everything at once, before the era of iPads and smart phones. The pool room had its walls and cei...

Chapter 18: The Race Against Time… and Time Zones We vowed to leave early for Nashville, but somehow still managed to depart exactly five minutes before check-out. Vanlife routines were now muscle memory: fill the water tank, dump gray water, give the cassette toilet a rinse (zero tolerance for even minor whiffs). On our way, we swung by our old campsite at Cades Cove, reminiscing about our snowy 2020 vanlife debut.  Compared to that adventure, this felt like glamping: we could stand upright, cook proper meals, and the bed was basically a cloud. Nelson’s point was proving true: a little hardship makes you appreciate the simple things… like indoor toilets. Knoxville brought grocery shopping, a very tasty food truck lunch, and a mind-boggling discovery: Tennessee has two time zones. Thanks to that, we “gained” an hour heading to Nashville—perfect timing to arrive at our campground literally five minutes before closing. Cue hero moment: the campground staff offered us free tickets to...

  Chapter 14: Elk Don’t Care About My Itinerary We rolled into Smokemont Campground after a scenic drive, only to be stopped by elk casually wandering across the road. They moved with the kind of entitlement you usually only see in Manhattan pedestrians. At camp, I looked around at the setups people hauled in — giant rigs with awnings, fairy lights, and portable living rooms — while we parked our little van by a quiet creekside. Nights were sticky, the kind where you debate whether to suffocate with the windows closed or risk bears with them open. No bears came, but the sweat always did. Chapter 15: Too Many Butterflies and Questionable Decisions The Smokemont loop was billed as “moderate,” which in park ranger speak means “you’ll regret this.” The trail was humid, horsey, and way too many butterflies swarming suspiciously close to my face. I am not sure this is common knowledge, but butterflies love pee and poop because apparently, salt and nutrients taste better than nectar, ki...

Chapter 13: Urban Oasis in the Blue Ridge We rolled out of Bear Den Mountain, leaving behind the smell of pine needles, bug spray, and slightly charred marshmallows, and hit Asheville, NC—the city that whispered, “You need caffeine, culture, and maybe a little weirdness in your life.” I was craving urban energy and professionally cooked food. Asheville delivered. Cute downtown streets, funky shops, and just enough hipster vibes to make me feel like I belonged…or like I needed a man with a man bun. We checked in at White Labs Brewery, strictly before 4pm because apparently the beer gods are very punctual. First order of business: pizza. This was not just pizza. This was a pizza that could stage a coup. Delicious, pepperoni-y, life-affirming pizza. After that, a downtown walk led to some unexpected culture: the Thomas Wolfe memorial, an art gallery we couldn’t escape, and Sunshine Sammies ice cream sandwiches—sweet, gooey, and absolutely necessary. Oh, and a victorious sauerkraut find ...

Chapter 9: Fiddles, Footwork, and the First Campfire We had a lazy breakfast—eggs sunny side up, smoked salmon, strawberries—before heading to the Blue Ridge Music Center. The Buck Mountaineers were playing, and the energy was infectious: jig-dancing, singing, and quirky little puppets “dancing” across the banjo and guitar strings. I learned that the banjo came from West Africa, inspired by the Akonting. Who knew? The day got even better when Lilian and Cindy arrived from New York. Seeing them set up tent and self-inflated mats felt like welcoming old friends into a little mountain home. At Stony Fork Creek campground, Nelson built his first campfire using dead wood, while Lilian displayed serious bare-handed log-breaking skills. Dinner was steak, baguette, salad, and wine from Round Peak, and Cindy and I finished the night with marshmallows over the fire—pure joy. Chapter 10: Seven Sisters Under a Summer Sun Hiking day! Breakfast was chicken sausages, scrambled eggs, and toast, w...

  Chapter 5 – Across the Bay in the Rain We started the morning with a quick, muggy-day breakfast of granola and milk before saying goodbye to our Harvest Host farm. The farm stand was irresistible — a cantaloupe for a dollar, a zucchini and eggplant each the size of a small child, and a pint of cherry tomatoes so sweet they barely lasted the day. With fresh produce stashed in the van, we stopped for sparklers at a roadside stand and hit the road toward Virginia Beach. The real thrill of the day came with the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel. Twenty-eight kilometers of bridge and tunnel stretched across open water, and in the middle of a rainstorm it felt like driving into infinity. No land in sight, just ocean in every direction, the tunnels so narrow that oncoming trucks felt uncomfortably close. When we finally rolled onto solid ground again, the relief was palpable. A Trader Joe’s stop was next — my new guilty pleasure. We stocked up on smoked salmon, Gouda, trail mix, rice crack...