I don’t know where the sunbeams end

A couple of years ago, I took a long car trip across the United States, from North Carolina north to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, west to Cor d’Alene, south to Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons, then back east through Bardstown, Kentucky until I returned to the beginning. It was not my first trip across the continent, but like the previous trips, I saw things that made me say “I should come back here one day.” I’d like to go to all 50 states, but I’ve already been to 48 so it seems like a good time to dive a little deeper.

After that trip, I started to dream about having a camper van, but the cost seemed out of reach. One of those fancy Sprinter conversion could easily cost $60,000 used and more than $100,000 new. Plus I have an inordinate fear of the wind blowing me off the road (probably due to driving a Jeep Wrangler for several years). Still, I remained captivated by the thought of having something that I could just jump in and go.

A couple of weeks back, I revisited one of those places: Badlands National Park in South Dakota. It took more or less six hours to get there, and having one full day in the park was enough for me to feel like I had gotten the experience. The biggest obstacle to doing more of this seemed to be the amount of labor it took to get out all my stuff, pack it in the car, set it up when I got there, break it down, pack it back in, then unload it at home. I still need to air out the tent because it got kind damp.

The idea of a camper van came back with a vengeance. Living in the west puts me within a days drive of so many iconic places, and I want to experience as many of them as I can. Because I did not want a Sprinter van, or even a second vehicle, I decided that I would traded in my Subaru Legacy for a minivan. The only question was, which one?

At first I thought the answer was obvious. Chrysler makes a minivan that has seats which fold into the floor, making a completely flat bed in the back. That would be super easy to fit out in a way that could easily be undone. They also make a plug-in hybrid minivan. These things combined seemed very appealing until I found out that the seats in a hybrid Chrysler do not fold into the floor because the battery gets in the way. Add that to the not Honda or Toyota reliability record, and I was cooling rapidly on the Chrysler.

Toyota also makes a hybrid minivan. Toyota knows how to make hybrids. A Toyota hybrid minivan has a low center of gravity, making it pretty stable in the wind. They also make it as in an all wheel drive version. I appreciated this because I plan to make it my primary vehicle, and I live where it snows. So they say. I found a couple of AWD Toyota hybrid minivans on the CarMax website and made arrangements to have one shipped to my local store.

As I was waiting for it to arrive, however, I discovered something distressing. The middle seats on the AWD Toyota hybrid minivan are not intended to be removed by the owner. Pushing them all the way forward is an option, but let’s be honest, it’s a crappy option. I discovered that a fine young gentleman in California had put together a lot of resources for people who want to remove the second row seats from their 4th Generation Toyota Siennas. I have to say that this guy is my hero as much for his unabashed nerding out on the project as for all the ways his knowledge is helping me. After a restless night, I decided that I too would commit to the bit, as the kids say, and go for the AWD Toyota Sienna hybrid.

It turned out that a van other than the one I had put on hold became available at my local CarMax before mine did. I went to take a look and was smitten. Although it took the whole afternoon, I brought my new van home and almost immediately experienced the exact opposite of buyer’s remorse. I am so happy to have this vehicle and so excited to fit it out for adventure.

But first things first, my van needed a name. If minivans are the Yacht Rock of cars, then the Toyota Sienna is the Steely Dan of minivans, the highest expression of the form. Realizing this led me to consider naming my van “Josie.” She is, after all, the pride of the neighborhood, but that name also lacked a bit of gravitas. A dear friend suggested “Celeste” which reminded me of a person I know, and like, with that name but for whom I did not want to name my adventure mobile.

Still, this name reflected the celestial vibes of the iridescent pearl exterior and sent me on a search for otherworldly possibilities. I was quickly led to Artemis, Greek goddess of the wilderness who was also seen as a personification of the moon. In fact, NASA’s current lunar landing project is named “Artemis.” While I have been known at times to question the wisdom of making space exploration a public spending priority, I do recognize the sense of awe and wonder that these voyages inspire. All of this led me to embrace “Artemis” as the name of my 2022 AWD Toyota Sienna, or more formally “Camper Van Artemis.”

We’ll see how things go. I can already tell that I will be giving a lot of headspace to this project, and that might be just fine. I hope to keep a record of my progress along the way, and hope that you’ll enjoy watching how things unfold (if you are inclined to follow along).