“You bought a what?” my mom asked me over the phone recently.

“An old ambulance,” I replied. “Yes, really. An ambulance. You know, lights and sirens? I’m really excited about it.”

You might wonder what series of questionable decisions led to this exchange, and I wouldn’t blame you. You might also question where one acquires a retired emergency vehicle.

By the time my girlfriend and I finish renovating our new rig, it will be the ideal traveling tiny home—a cozy, functional camper van with just the right balance of amenities.

That’s the plan, at least.

With many creature comforts of life in Spokane still restricted due to COVID-19, we took the plunge and joined thousands of people across the country who have embraced the concept of “van life.”

It’s not like sleeping in a luxury motor home. It’s an ethos—and an online community—built around the satisfaction of customizing a personal living space on wheels.

Check out #VanLife on Instagram, and you’ll find more than eight million photos of converted vans, school buses, ambulances, and box trucks, often surrounded by sandy beaches or the gorgeous scenery of national parks. In the “vandwellers” forum on Reddit, travelers show off their handiwork and share tips for gutting, insulating, wiring, and framing in your layout of choice.

Some folks—born nomads—live the van life full time, while others are weekend warriors. Some install toilets, showers, solar panels, TVs, and refrigerators. Others go with more low-tech options. The sky is the limit, depending on what you can afford, your technical savvy, and where you plan to take your rig.

My girlfriend and I were immediately drawn in. What better way to check off our long list of travel destinations?

After a bit of research and many hours spent browsing Craigslist, Facebook Marketplace and government auction sites, I found a guy in a nearby town selling an ambulance built on a 1987 Ford Econoline chassis. With relatively low mileage, it seemed like a great option with our modest budget.

The seller said this ambulance was originally used by the fire department on Whidbey Island, and for a couple years he had used it for his barbecue catering business. (Regrettably, the exterior was covered in hard-to-remove decals, including a band of cartoonish orange flames and his business logo, which resembled a whole-roasted pig).

“It’s perfect,” I told the guy, as I looked around the spacious interior of the vehicle, envisioning where to put a full bed and a kitchenette. “I’ll take it.”

The ambulance needed a bit of under-the-hood work, but after a few weeks at a local repair shop, it runs like a champ.

The transformation into a practical camper van will not be easy, however, and I hope my carpentry skills are up to the task. After parking it in the driveway, we quickly set about dismantling everything inside, delicately removing fiberglass insulation and scraping off those garish decals.

As of this writing, only the ceiling panel and a few pieces of the old cabinets remain in the ambulance. The next big tasks will include cutting holes in the roof for a skylight and a ventilation fan. One day, maybe we’ll give our van a creative paint job.

It’s a daunting project, and I fully expect hiccups along the way. But it’s immensely rewarding to work with our hands—and a much-needed distraction from the chaotic news cycle.

If our timeline works out, the camp-ulance (sorry) will depart for its maiden voyage next spring. At first, we’ll probably visit places close to home— Eastern Washington, North Idaho, Western Montana—to work out any bugs.

After that, the possibilities are endless.