Small Adventures Before Takeoff

 

Chapter 130: Return to Familiar Parking Spots

I went back to Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art for the first time in a while, and pulling into the parking lot felt oddly nostalgic... which is not something I expected to feel about asphalt.

In the summer, this used to be my Monday routine. I had a perfect parking spot: level ground, generous tree shade, and just enough privacy for me to crawl into the back of the van and take a guilt-free morning nap before Arkansas heat turned the van into a toaster oven.

Only a few months had passed, but everything looked different. The trees were bare, the shade completely gone, and my prized nap spot was now just… exposed reality. Winter really strips away the romance.

Inside the café, some things had reassuringly not changed. The matcha latte was still overpriced and still not very good. But paying too much for mediocre drinks feels acceptable when it buys you several hours of peaceful Wi-Fi and a nice chair.

Even the view had changed. Construction crews had drained the pond, and workers stood in rubber boots walking around the mud like they were fly fishing for invisible trout. The picturesque summer scene was replaced by what looked like a nature documentary mid-maintenance phase. Winter doesn’t flatter anyone... not trees, not ponds, not moods.

Waders everywhere LOL


After finishing some computer work, I browsed the museum shop for gifts to bring back to New York. We were flying out that weekend, and I was already planning reunion meals in my head. Nelson had dentist appointments (yes, plural); I had an even more urgent appointment: a haircut and highlights. I was extremely excited to see friends… but if I’m honest, seeing Kako, my hairdresser, ranked suspiciously high on the priority list.

The gift shop had charming Arkansas map tea towels, but the fridge magnets were impressively terrible. Truly a masterclass in bad souvenir design.

Feeling ambitious, I drove into downtown Bentonville, an area I usually avoid because parking a van there feels like performing a public road test I didn’t study for. I bought beans from Onyx Coffee Lab, local pride and allegedly the best coffee shop in the world. I also stopped by the Walmart Museum and found tote bags I absolutely would have bought if I were visiting instead of living here.

The New York trip suddenly felt very real. I imagined wearing nice clothes again, though judging by the weather reports, the city was still frozen solid.

That, I decided, was next week’s problem.

Chapter 131: Exploration Tuesday Makes a Comeback

With the worst of winter behind us, Exploration Tuesday officially returned.

While searching for new coffee shops, I discovered an Airship Coffee at Coler location that cannot be reached by car. You have to hike or bike into Coler Mountain Bike Preserve to get there.

Naturally, I had to go.

The parking lot alone was an adventure. Mountain bikers loaded gear with Olympic efficiency while parents unloaded children with equal urgency. I navigated the Don Don van through this chaos trying not to hit a cyclist, a toddler, or my own van.

Once parked, the hike was beautiful, about three miles round trip, mostly flat, with crisp winter air and sunshine that felt like a reward for surviving January. Mountain bikers flew past somewhere in the woods, invisible but loud, like adrenaline-powered ghosts.



Along the trail I met a dog walker managing six dogs of entirely different shapes and sizes. After several minutes of internal debate... New York instincts still telling me not to bother strangers, I finally said hello. Her name was Jay (or Jade?) and she ran a dog-walking business called “Jaywalkers,” which might be the best business name I’ve ever heard. I petted the brave dogs and admired the shy ones from a respectful distance.



The coffee shop appeared about a mile in: a minimalist concrete structure open on one side, espresso machines humming, a staff member mopping the floor. Watching someone mop made me unexpectedly jealous. I miss having floors to mop.



I ordered a latte and a burrito and settled in for peak people-watching. For a café you can’t drive to, the place was packed, parents with strollers, hikers, dogs everywhere, and people who clearly did not have to sit in offices at 11 a.m. on a Tuesday. Everyone looked relaxed and happy, which honestly felt reasonable under the circumstances.

The coffee was excellent. The burrito was small but perfect. I sat there longer than planned, eating slowly and chatting with strangers, feeling like we are getting a glimpse of Spring.

Don Don approves.


After hiking back, I celebrated Exploration Tuesday properly with a pedicure... preparation for New York, both physically and emotionally.

The next day I visited our land before heading to Blowing Springs, our Wednesday ritual. From the road everything looked unchanged, but walking onto the property revealed a massive hole in the ground with a neat pile of red dirt beside it. According to the site plan, this was the future septic tank location.



A hole in the ground has never made me so happy. Progress is strange like that.

Back at camp, pre-trip survival mode began: eat everything in the fridge. I made another pot of chili verde, this time with chicken and every remaining vegetable I could find. The days before travel always produce meals that feel experimental and slightly desperate.

Thursday became Freezer Thawing Day, a task I had postponed long enough. I turned off the fridge, propped the door open, and aimed a space heater at it like a scientific experiment. Sheets of ice peeled away satisfyingly, but stubborn chunks refused to surrender.

Ice sheets taking up precious space for ice cream


Time to escalate.

I used my Dyson Airwrap as a de-icing tool, which was definitely not its intended purpose but worked beautifully. Five hours later, the fridge looked brand new, and I felt deeply accomplished resisting the urge to immediately refill it with food.




Friday was packing day, which turned out to be surprisingly stressful. After eight months of vanlife, I’m used to having everything within arm’s reach. Air travel suddenly felt complicated. Mini shampoo bottles? Multiple outfits? Decisions?

Suitcases had to live open on the picnic table because there was no room inside the van, turning packing into a constant back-and-forth relay.

We went to bed early before our early airport departure, but I lay awake anyway... equal parts excitement and anxiety.

New York was waiting.

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