days 7-8—stuck in paradise

We were in paradise—or rather, Paradise Grove (read: classic suburbia). If there was a chain restaurant you’d been meaning to try, chances were this place had it.

Our saving grace, Alex the mechanic, was scheduled to swing by the hotel around 2:00 PM to diagnose the battery issue. With hours to kill, we turned to practicalities. Trent needed a haircut and had been eyeing a new gaming laptop for a while.

So, we headed to the epicenter of suburban life: the mega shopping center. It had everything—Walmart, Target, Home Depot, Best Buy, TJMaxx, Sierra, and more.

Trent discovered the ideal lightweight laptop at Best Buy. Amazingly, he also noticed a barber close by. Ah, the American experience.

“I’ll check out some shops while you get your haircut,” I said, eyeing Sierra and Ulta. I had no business shopping, but who knew? Maybe something would be worth the sacrifice.

I wandered through the aisles, but nothing caught my eye. After a while, I decided to check on Trent. His barber wasn’t far—just a 15-minute walk across the parking lot.

As I strolled through the lot, an unexpected self-awareness washed over me. I looked down at my sweatpants and UGG slippers. They were casual enough for an "errands chic" style, yet possibly too relaxed. I wondered, to an onlooker, how did I look? Did I seem purposeful or did I look like someone wandering without direction?

The thought snowballed. What if they thought I was waiting to ask for spare change? What if I looked aimless? An otherwise routine walk now felt heavy with imagined scrutiny.

Is this the experience of being homeless? I pondered. Both unseen and intensely scrutinized, as if examined closely. This understanding made my breathing and pace slow down.

No one’s noticing you, I reminded myself. They’re just living their lives.

When I got to Trent's location, I encountered a dilemma: which barber should I choose? To my left was GreatClips, and to my right was a vape lounge with a handwritten sign offering haircuts.

I took a chance on Great Clips—empty. So, I tried the vape lounge. Sure enough, there he was, getting his beard trimmed beside a bar and a couple of pool tables. I grabbed a seat across from him when the hairdresser turned around and noticed me.

"Ah, so you're the one he's been talking about," she teased with a playful smile. "Sounds like you two are in the middle of quite the adventure."

I felt the warmth creeping into my cheeks, probably turning them red. "Yeah, we're excited. A few bumps along the way, sure, but nothing we can't handle."

Soon enough, he emerged, looking refreshed and undeniably more polished—not quite the disheveled van-dwelling guy he was this morning.

By then, it was almost lunchtime, though we'd skipped breakfast. We stumbled upon a charming retro diner just a few minutes down the road—One Man Band.

As you step inside, you're greeted by a sign explaining their delightfully quirky ordering system. Instead of waiting for a server, you use a phone at your table to place your order directly with the kitchen—whom you can even make eye contact with. It adds a personal, vintage touch to the experience. The open kitchen hums with the sounds of sizzling food, and self-serve stations add a relaxed, no-fuss vibe. 

After eating our fill, we returned to the hotel to use the gym. Shortly after, Alex showed up to inspect the van again.

After spending a few hours troubleshooting, he identified the problem. However, he couldn't fix it immediately and would have to come back the next day.

We were a little disheartened, but we understood. These things take time.

So, we did the logical thing: went for a night swim, ordered Chipotle, and binge-watched Cops. The van would be fixed tomorrow, and we'd be back on the road soon enough.

Reader, the van was not fixed the next day. Alex dedicated the whole day to it, only to discover around 6:00 PM that he hadn't fixed it and would have to return on Monday.

It wasn’t the news we’d hoped for, but we didn’t let it dampen our spirits.

Instead, we adapted.