Occasionally, I’ll get one of those “I’ve never had a better shower in my life” type of showers. This was one of those.
I stood in that shower for what felt like hours. I washed off the dirt, sweat, and tears from the past week. It was like I was washing off all the places I’d been to and all the memories that were lingering on my skin. I was ready to feel fresh.
I was preparing for what I knew would be an extended stay in the Mercedes-Benz dealership parking lot. After being towed in 65 miles, I would now be waiting for a new engine to arrive from Germany.
When I got back to Mercedes after my shower, I found that they had moved Forrest back into the parking lot but the spot I was parked in was very unlevel, and my feet would be above my head while sleeping. If it had been just a night or two, I would have toughed it out, but I knew I’d be here for a while and I hate sleeping backward in my bed. I went into the dealership to see if there was anything we could do about it.
My favorite service guy was already gone for the day, but the guy who had picked me up from Planet Fitness was there. I asked him and he said all the mechanics had already left, but he might be able to find enough people to push it. Sure enough, a few minutes later, about 10 older men in fancy suits came out and pushed my home across the parking lot to a more level spot. Just in case you needed a reminder, there are really good people in this world.
I woke up at 3:30 am the next day like I normally do for work and settled into my normal workday routine. Shortly after I finished teaching my last class, I got a phone call.
“Good morning!” It was the guy from the service counter. “I just wanted to check in on you and see if you slept alright. I get into work at 6:30 each morning to open the place up and you’re welcome to come in anytime after that. Use the bathroom, grab snacks, whatever you need.” I was absolutely overwhelmed by his kindness. Again, there are really good people out there.
My best friend was flying in the next day to spend the week with me. When we booked this trip, we had planned to go down to Zion National Park, one of my favorite places in the world. She’d get a taste of vanlife with me as we traveled across Utah. Now, it was looking more like she’d get to experience what I like to call “real-life vanlife,” which has fewer stunning landscapes and a lot more struggle.
In an attempt to save our trip, I rented a car so that we wouldn’t have to rely on dealership shuttles to get around. The rental car place was about a mile down the road so it would be an easy walk to go pick it up. I walked around the dealership to cross the street and before I could even pass the front door, the service guy ran out. He insisted that the dealership shuttle could take me so I wouldn’t have to walk. I knew he wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I let them drop me off there.
The shuttle driver was the same one who had dropped me off for a shower the night before. He spoke very little English and insisted that I give directions by pointing right or left instead of speaking. We drove the mile down the street and when he saw that he was dropping me off at a Hertz for a car he said, “You?” and made the motion of driving and pointed to one of the cars. I nodded my head and he cheered.
My friend and I still hoped to camp, despite not having a van, but due to flooding in Zion, we changed our plans to head down to Moab instead. I picked her up from the airport that night and she got to spend her first night in the van sleeping in the Mercedes parking lot.
The next day we took off in our rental car, with Dakota loaded in the back, and headed towards the desert. I was so excited to take her to Moab and to show her the landscapes that fill my heart and soul. But of course, it’s never as easy as you think it will be.
We got to Moab and set off to find a campsite. It was only Thursday, but all the campsites were full. We drove from campground to campground and were having no luck. We were now losing most of our day to our search. Eventually, we ditched the idea of being along the river and found a spot a bit further away and less secluded. It would have to do.
While we set up camp, Dakota wandered around eating as much grass as possible, a sign that she wasn’t feeling well. She had been doing this on and off since we left Colorado, but still had an appetite and otherwise seemed perfectly normal.
We waited it out a little before deciding to go ahead and find some adventure. I had spent many weekends in Moab before vanlife and had several favorite hikes that I was excited to share with my friend.
As we hiked in along the river, feeling small between the giant canyon walls, I found an even deeper appreciation for this place. Watching my best friend’s face light up, the awe that takes over, made me take a second look at a landscape that had become familiar.
This hike was an out-and-back, with a spectacular arch at the turn-around point. As we approached the arch, the moon was making an appearance and we realized we’d be running out of daylight.
Luckily, I had brought a headlamp and a flashlight, so we were able to navigate the trail in the dark. Although we didn’t mean to, we had a true “Jenny adventure,” and we loved every second of it. Dakota had a great hike too and showed no signs of not feeling well, so I was glad we decided to go for the hike.
Dakota and I between the canyon walls 
Nighttime wildlife
Back at camp, we cooked a quick dinner, froze around the picnic table, and both passed out as soon as we crawled into the tent.
The next morning, we cooked breakfast, tore down camp, and set off for one of my favorite hikes. This one is a 9-mile hike along a little creek. As you hike, the canyon walls grow around you and by the end, you find yourself deep in a slot canyon with an amazing waterfall at the end.
There are many river crossings and we enjoyed the challenge of seeing how long we could go without getting our feet wet. We spent most of the day in that little canyon before heading back towards Salt Lake City.
We were both starving but didn’t feel up to the task of pulling all the cookware out for dinner, so we figured we’d stop at a gas station and pick up some quick food for the drive.
The guy I had left in Colorado would be coming back from his trip today. I had been anxiously waiting for a text from him. I was convinced he’d get back to tell me how much he had missed me.
Eventually, I heard from him. He told me he was so sorry for how things had ended and for how he treated me. He said he wasn’t sure what had happened to us. I broke down into sobs, thankful to have my best friend there to help me keep it together.
Having done this drive plenty of times, I figured I’d be able to navigate home without assistance from Google Maps. After almost an hour though, I realized that wasn’t true.
I also snapped out of “van mode” and realized I was no longer driving a vehicle with a huge gas tank. With the van, I could have made that entire trip without filling up, and since we had filled up the rental car on the way down, I never even thought to glance at the gauge. Now we had just barely a quarter of a tank left.
I surrendered to Google Maps and found I had taken us on a rather large detour. I had hoped to be home at a reasonable time because I would be up at 3 am for work, but that wouldn’t be happening now.
I looked up the nearest gas station along our route… 68 miles away. The car was showing 70 miles until empty. My friend reassured me that these are usually pretty accurate and that we’d probably be fine, but luck hadn’t been on my side much lately, especially with vehicles. I imagined us sputtering to a stop in the middle of nowhere, way past my bedtime, and decided it wasn’t worth the risk.
There was another closer gas station, but it would put us on another 30-minute detour. We weren’t left with many other options, so that would have to be fine. We’d grab food from this gas station too and then be back on the road.
The detour was magnificent. We drove through beautiful sandstone canyons on winding back roads. Eventually, that back road came to an intersection with Main Street, at the town’s only stoplight. Right around the corner was the gas station, which had a solitary pump outside and looked like it might not be functioning.
The “convenience store” was tiny and dark, another bad sign. We pulled in, both holding our breath. Luckily there was a spot for a credit card and a tiny, illuminated screen on the pump. We’d be able to get gas! The store, however, was certainly closed so we’d have to eat somewhere else.
We were back on the road but still had almost our entire drive ahead of us after my navigational mistake. We eventually had to make a separate gas station pit stop for food. It was a long, late drive but we made it back to our cozy, broken-down van in the Mercedes parking lot.
The next day was cold and rainy, but we had more hiking to do. I wanted to take my friend to some nearby hot springs, which is always the perfect rainy-day adventure. Apparently, everyone else in the area thinks so too. This was maybe the only time I was thankful to not be in my van as we squeezed the rental car into a very crowded trailhead parking lot.
Dakota had been crying in the car a bit on the way there, which is very uncharacteristic for Dakota. The instant she jumped out of the car, she began frantically eating grass again. We were a long way from the dealership now and she was still eating and drinking well, so we went forward with the hike. She ate grass and puked it up twice on our hike in. I was stressed at this point and had never seen her behave this way so many days in a row. After she’d puke, she’d bound up and down the trail and prance around like normal until returning to her grass/puke routine. My dog-mom gut was worrying but my wallet was begging me to give it more time.
We made it to the crowded hot springs and enjoyed a few adult beverages while soaking and chatting with the other people in the pool. Dakota managed just fine at the pool and sat along the side making friends with everyone who walked past.
On the way out though, she went right back to the grass. It wasn’t long before she hunched over on the side of the trail. Unfortunately, she did this right as a family walked past and the sound of her tossing her cookies made everyone a bit queasy.
We got her home without any incidents in the rental car. We had taco night in the van and Dakota was fine the rest of the night.
The next day it was time for her to head back to Michigan. We grabbed a goodbye beer at a local brewery, and I dropped her off at the airport.
It was so hard to say goodbye. We have made our friendship a priority for the past few years with weekly phone dates, so although we live far from each other, we are as close as we were back in high school. The past few years have been hard for both of us and we’ve lived through a lot of the highs and lows together. Spending actual time together had been so refreshing and neither of us wanted it to end. The distraction of having her in town had impeccable timing, but now I would be back to face my reality of a broken van, a broken heart, and a dog who wasn’t feeling well.
I was yearning to talk to the guy from Colorado again. Now that I was alone, I wanted to sort it all out. I hoped we could put it behind us and meet up again in a couple of weeks when he made his way to Vegas for poker. I wish I didn’t have to learn every lesson the hard way, but that just seems to be the way I learn best.
I eventually got to talk to him on the phone and that’s when he told me he was “over it.” Over us. That second round of hurt gave me the closure I needed.
During the time that my best friend had been here, she had spent some time on Tinder, the dating app. She was coming across all sorts of guys in the area who were also living in vans and kept encouraging me to get back on the app (what are best friends for, right?).
And by now, I’m pretty good at distracting myself from guys by meeting more guys (yes, I’m rolling my eyes too).
So, I killed some time chatting with guys on this dating app. I had always thought I’d get more serious about dating on the road when I made it back to Salt Lake since that had the highest odds of working out long-term. At this point in my journey, I had tried every version of a long-distance relationship. I had met wonderful people all over, but I knew that a relationship was less likely to work if I couldn’t see myself living in that part of the country.
This last relationship had felt so exciting that anyone “normal” seemed awfully boring to me. I was chatting with guys who were boasting about how they had a great corporate job and how they owned a house, and I couldn’t help but think that those made us incompatible. I know that realistically I’m not going to be able to be with a guy who has roots, even if those roots are in Salt Lake City.
I went to bed early that night. I was exhausted from how busy we had been the past few days and from all the emotions that were finally catching up to me.
The next morning, I got up to feed Dakota before work and she wouldn’t eat. She smelled the bowl and laid back down.
Dakota is one of the most food-motivated dogs in the world. She has literally gotten herself two overnight stays at emergency vets because she can’t help but eat anything she comes in contact with that somewhat resembles food. So when Dakota stops eating, something is VERY wrong. I planned to take her to the vet as soon as I finished work that morning.
As I was working, Dakota stood up on the bed and started crying. My work uses video chat so when I’m teaching there is no way to go back and forth around me, but Dakota and I are in a pretty good routine at this point so it’s not usually a problem. This morning, however, she got up and was crying at the edge of the bed during the middle of my class. There is absolutely nothing I can do if this happens without risking my job, so I let her cry it out in the hopes that she could wait until the 5 minutes I have between classes. This time, she couldn’t wait though. She hunched over and puked all over my bed. Meanwhile, I’m smiling and repeating “I like to play basketball,” over and over to a child in China.
When work was done, I got her out and she did her grass/puke routine. I called the vet, which happens to be OUR vet since I’m now back in Salt Lake City, and got the first available appointment a few hours later. I hoped we could wait it out until the appointment so that we wouldn’t end up at the emergency vet instead.
I went to the service desk to see if they had an extra car for me so I could get her to the vet and hopefully get to the laundromat as well since my sheets were now covered in puke. Luckily, they had one for me, but I was very nervous about putting my sick dog in the back of a $70,000 Mercedes.
When it was time to go, I spread blankets down under Dakota and stuffed my dirty sheets in a garbage bag. I went to put in the key and saw there was no spot for a key. I had seen this in other cars before, so I knew to push a button to get it started instead. Now I had to reverse out of the spot, but there was no shifter. I searched all over and could not find how to put the car in reverse. I laughed at how silly this seemed and at how the service guy would probably be dying if he saw me trying to figure out how to back this expensive machine out of the parking spot. Eventually, I had to google it because I was running out of time for guessing.
By the time we arrived at the vet, Dakota was covered in hives, just to make everything more complicated. The vet took Dakota for tests and asked to keep her for most of the day to monitor her. They gave her a Benadryl shot for the hives, checked for Pancreatitis, since she had a history of it, and ran a few other blood tests. She was also given fluids and they planned to do an x-ray to check for an obstruction if everything else came back normal. I hated leaving her but knew she was in really good hands. It also gave me time to get to the laundromat.
The ridiculousness of parking this fancy Mercedes GLS 450 in front of a shady laundromat was just too much, but my sheets were clean, and it wasn’t long before the vet called back.
To nobody’s surprise, Dakota wasn’t a willing participant for the x-ray. They’d have to sedate her ($$$) and so the vet, knowing that I was about to replace an engine, wanted to try a different approach before jumping to the x-ray. I brought her home with a bunch of medication and we’d try keeping her fed and hydrated on a bland diet while managing her nausea and treating for parasites and infection. If she continued to get sick, then I’d bring her back for the x-ray. They asked to keep her until the end of the day so they could keep an eye on her, so I had a whole day to stay busy while I waited to pick her up.
I had been chatting with a few guys online, but one guy, in particular, stood out. He was an ultrarunner, had a cute dog, and worked remotely running his own marketing business. His family lived here in Utah, but he lived IN A BUS. That’s right, he lived on the road and was just back in Utah temporarily to get some things done and to spend some time rock climbing.
He had offered to take me to the vet that morning if I didn’t get a car from Mercedes, but I couldn’t let our first date be taking me and my sick dog to the vet. Now that I had some time to kill without Dakota, I asked if he could meet for a drink, and he obliged.
As I pulled up to the restaurant, I saw his giant bus parked in the back of the lot, the only place it would fit. It was an old prison bus that was converted into a home-on-wheels by a previous owner.
He jumped down out of the giant rig and I was instantly surprised at how much better looking he was in person than online. It’s usually the other way around, right?
We went and grabbed a drink and some food and a couple of hours whizzed by as we swapped tales of the road, laughing at each other’s misfortune and misery in a way that you’re only allowed to if you’ve been there too.
Soon it was time to go grab Dakota, and I drove the whole way with a huge smile on my face.
The vet mentioned that they wanted me to bathe Dakota since she seemed to be having an allergic reaction with her hives. That way we could rule out a reaction to something topical.
A bath is a great idea, but it sure is difficult when you’re having a hard enough time bathing yourself.
The next day I asked the service guy if I could borrow a car to take her to the dog wash. I had actually started becoming good friends with this service guy. When you live in the parking lot, there isn’t a whole lot to do to keep busy, so we had spent a bit of time chatting. He told me stories of his family and I shared my stories of the road and told him all about my date from the previous evening. His company was really nice.
Unfortunately, their loaner cars were all being used that day.
“Would a hose work?” he asked. “Why don’t you just give her a bath in the detail bay? We have a normal hose back there that you’re welcome to use. Meet me out there and I’ll get you set up.”
A few minutes later I had Dakota in the detail bay with her shampoo and a towel. The guys that did the detailing were staring at yet another Mercedes spectacle.
I started spraying her down while trying to scrub her and hold her leash. I needed more hands than I had. The service guy, seeing my struggle, told me to hand him the leash so he could hold her while I washed.
Now just imagine what the guy who sits at the front desk at a Mercedes dealership looks like. This guy was dressed to the nines and he was offering to stand 4 feet away from my dog while I sprayed and shampooed her.
I may have shed a few tears after getting back to the van because of how lucky I felt to have someone so kind in my life during a really awful time.
Keeping my focus on the positive things happening around me (free coffee every morning, a safe place to sleep, and the kindness of new friends) was going to be the only way I’d survive the next couple weeks in the parking lot.
Sometimes miracles are just good people with kind hearts.
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