Furnishings

In a flash, our progress:

Kitchen 

-kitchen counter top & 13" leaf

-sink mounting hole & cutting board plug
-sound-dampening coated stainless steel sink
-(2) 6gal carry-in plastic H20 tanks
-water filtration unit
-faucet
-foot pump
-35 quart Engel performance cooler
-(1) 20 lb. propane tank split to
-Coleman 2-burner stove (stove locked to the table) and a
-Mr. Heater "Buddy" heater

Cabin

-a cabin closet with drawers and tall storage
-accessory cabinets

-2 couches
-seat cushions with custom upholstery
-under-couch drawers with locking hardware

Battery bank

-secured (4) 6volt gel marine batteries to the floor behind closet

Driving

-installed passenger swivel adapter; now both seats rotate. (Thank you Sprinter-source.com/forum for connecting us with a second-hand swivel as the U.S. distributer had them on back order for many months!)

Sleeping

-(6) removable/flexible under bed storage wells

I am especially impressed with Daniel's  3" tall foot rest that doubles as a storage box, able to slide under the couch and out of the way.  With absolutely no research or intention to research -- I confidently report this footrest to be the shortest coffee table in the world.

Things left to do

-throw up the walls
-stain all wood
-window sill
-make privacy shades/window covers
-build overhead compartment that will run the length of the drivers side
-cut/cover memory foam to fit bed at "short setting".  (Couch seat backs and butts can be put in place to extend bed to 88". . .that's 7' 4". . .basketballers welcome.)
-install carpeted ceiling panels
-install lights
-rig electric and inverter
-install flip up "utility/garage table" on back door
-install shelving in the trunk storage compartment
-build roof rack
-adjust ABS sensors
-fortify rear bumper (rusting damage)
-dremel away "black death" crystallized diesel exhaust from engine cover & place new gasket
-pack! shove off!  -delilah

Divorcing a double sink.

Using double bar clamps to make stripwood counter top.

13-inch pop-up leaf.

It's a Box!

Thanks for joining us in this edition of Avuncular Activities.

"Avuncular" (a·vun·cu·lar adjective 1.of or relating to an uncle) has, overnight, become our favorite word and thusly radically altered our lives.  We are both wearing collared sweaters, donning spectacles (even if they are 3D movie glasses with the lenses popped out), growing mustaches (Delilah's is looking promising), and writing with mechanical pencils.

In our transition to becoming uncles we have naturally begun to make boxes.  Big boxes, small boxes, locked boxes, fox boxes, penalty boxes, jack-in-the-boxes.  And in our box-making frenzy the question popped into our heads. . .Who invented The Box?  This edition of Avuncular Activities is dedicated to the history of the box.

It all started years ago with four dudes: Rafael, Leonardo, Donatello, and Michelangelo. These dudes were some upstanding dudes and always helped out in the community.  From teaching skateboarding to the town toddlers, to rescuing

Timmy out of the well, they were always helping out where they could.  One day, on their way to help a promising young pupil learn how to kick-flip, they passed by Dave the Pizza-er (one who makes Pizza).
"Kowabunga, Dave!"  They yelled.
But when Dave did not respond with the customary "What's good my green friends?"  they knew something was very wrong.
     "What's up, Dave? You look like a skateboard's run you down."
     "Oh, well, I made all these pizzas for the Timmy's-no-longer-down-in-a-well party because he's no longer down in that well."
    "Right on, Amigo!" said Donatello.
    "Totally radical, man," said Rafael.
    "Super," said Michaelangelo.  And Leonardo, always the cool one,  just gave Dave a slight nod and a half-wink, as he crossed his legs and lounged against the wall.
     Dave was not reassured by the Dudes' encouragement or even Leonardo's half-wink.
    "Yes it's all great guys but I have no way of bringing all those pizzas to the party!" He sunk down onto a stack of pizza cardboard.

The Dudes were baffled by this conundrum and scrunched up their faces into their best thinking poses.  They scratched their heads and stroked their smooth turtley chins. Finally, Donatello bursted out.
    "I got it!"
    "You figured out how to bring the pizzas to the party?"
    "No, I finally found the M&M I lost last week. It was in my back pocket this whole time." He  munched on the M&M.
He was thoroughly congratulated with a few exclamations of "Awesome dude", "Mega cool bro" and the customary "Kowabunga du..."  But Rafael could not finish his exclamation.  The others stared at him but he was already bounding across the room to the stack of cardboard. He went to work in a fury of measuring, folding, and cutting.  In no time at all he stood back.
     "Viola!"
     The others went through the list: "Radical!" "Kowabunga!" "Right on!" and "Killer!".
     "What is it?" asked Dave.
     "I call it: a box."
     Rafael grabbed a pizza pie and slid it in.

The Dudes were astounded. Minutes later with the pizzas nestled into boxes (though there were considerably fewer slices than when they started), the Dudes rolled towards town on their skateboards, pizza stacked high above their heads.

Thanks for joining us on this educational edition of Avuncular Activities.

Here's a picture of one such box we constructed using 1/4" luan plywood, wood glue, and a whole lot of clamps. It will fit 2 small and 4 personal pizzas.

-Dan

Everything is the "Living Room"

When you live in a van everything is the living room. You don't get to refer to the "living room closet" or the "table in the living room" anymore. The eating, the reading, even the driving happens in the living room. It's all just one, big. . .small, cozy, organized place where everything mentionable and unmentionable happens.  Like a yurt on wheels.

This kind of reality must be attractive these days, though--the Tinyhouse industry is booming.  I think everyone I've ever met in every state I've ever been in is talking about wanting to move into a tinyhouse. People who drive large cars and have mortgages and stuff, everyone has contracted a mania to move into the livingroom.  Even me.

Makes sense.  I mean, during this design process we seem to ask ourselves two basic questions: 1. What do I need from a living space? and 2. What layout will maximize ease-of-use?  In order to commit to living out of a van at all Danimal and I must have quietly asked ourselves these same questions. The answer seems to have been: I need to chuck all my stuff out the window and move into the living room.  

The living room of any home is where both the action and relaxation happens. It's where entertainment happens, both the screen-based (movies) and discourse or conversation-based (friends come over for dinner/small children play here). Because it is often the room with the largest table, the living room is where projects happen. The living room is where it's at.  As long as the refrigerator and food prep moves in, it's the only room you really need. All the tinyhouse droolers were right after all.

This obvious and powerful truth, however much I am stoked for it and have invested in it--that all I really need can be built into an 11'x5' space--still frightens me about the future. My privileged upbringing afforded me large domestic spaces to dwell in, houses with rooms upon rooms, places where you could do your homework on one side of the house and not know for hours if someone was choking on a chicken wing or practicing for the opera on the other. The apartments and homes I've rented for the past 12 years were clearly scaled down quite a bit, but for the sake of this argument they were more or less the same. I have been so tied up in the layout process of the Sprinter-build, in the inches and folds, the angles, the if-you-sit-there-what-does-it-feel-like-when's that I hadn't given much thought to what everyone else in my life seems to have been wondering: How are you going to live in there?

Well. . .what's the big deal? Snails do it.  -Delilah

#greatmeasuringsnailrace

Stanley 25 out in front but still anyone's race.

Tune in next time to find out what happens in the Great Measuring Snail Race!

Hardwood is BOSS

In a world of hardwood vs. plywood, hardwood is boss. One already knows this, and wouldn't one love to use hardwood all the time if one could afford it. It's just so beautiful. With some stain? Fugeddabout it.  I think I will make out with hardwood. In a way I kind of did yesterday, walking around Saranac Hollow Woodworking Shop & Adirondack Hardwood, wiping a dab of spit on different cuts to see how they might change color or shine with a coat of stain.

We found out about Hal and the boys over at Adk Hardwood from my folks' builder, Roger, who stopped by for coffee the other day.  Dan and I are choosing to elongate our build project in the name of craftsmanship to assemble custom cutting board counter tops.  Strips of wood glued together in some sort of cute pattern will be installed in the kitchen as the main countertop to sink the sink into and hold the stove; the other countertop will be a pull-out dinette that hides under the bed when you don't need it. The whole thing is genius and of course cute. And we gotta pump out a lot of genius ideas these days to counteract the silly ones we have come up with during this project.

The first thing I did when I walked into the shop was ask them where their scrap pile was. They obliged us with heaps of awesome cuts from their scrap corner--curly maple, poplar, something they referred to as "fake mahogany" I think it was called sapele, oak, and some pine--for under $30 total. The car smelled like your favorite uncle all the way home. 

We also made a short stop to pick up the lastest edition of Fine Woodworking magazine, the "Joinery" edition. Thrilling reads for those who fancy cabinet making, trimming their mustache, wearing sweaters with geometric designs on them, and other avuncular domestic sports. (Actually this publication is fantastic.)
-Delilah

Lighting scheme

Ordered a bunch of lights today. This was after visiting a bunch of lighting showrooms in Albany (besides the box stores). I was surprised we could even visit a showroom these days. Has anyone ever done this, visited a lighting showroom?  They are some of the creepiest buildings you will ever drive up to. The windows are blacked out. Doesn't look like anyone's gonna be alive when you walk in. The showrooms delivered a moderately less creepy actual interior: store clerks who haven't spoken to a real human being in weeks, are startled by visitors, can't find their words, and then when they do they wont let you leave, tell you they had an aunt/uncle/grandchild/friend/mother who also refurbished an RV and drove across country, and did I know you can mount a flat screen TV in there no problem?  I sure do. No matter how dusty and crusty these people and these stores were, though, I had an urge to unite with them. Nothing in them was of any use to me because we need lights that can run off marine or RV-grade 12 volt DC batteries, not normal house AC current.  But, giving in to the jabber jaw of a lonely storeroom salesperson was a type, however minuscule, of emotional investment in the Ma&Pa side of the independent vs. conglomerate sales competition.

We are going with LEDs and I'm glad I got to see some in action.  LED stands for "Light Emitting Diode" and they are a whole different type of light, I tell ya. Hard to gauge with any basic imagination skills just how many and how much of that kind of light you will need. 10 diodes per head with 4 heads?  A reading light with 4 diodes or 16?  Under counter lights? Recessed lights overhead that will be further away and need to be brighter?

Trying to get a bearing on a guestimation method, my folks and I stood on top of stools and pointed flashlights this way and that and sometimes at each other.  That made us howl. It was a sloppy way of figuring it out. We found an LED flashlight rated at "25 lumens" and there weren't any lights I was looking at online rated less than 100 lumens. (Oh, that's the other thing: What is a lumen? How does my human brain use that as a unit of

measurement?) The brainstorming went like: "Ok so if I stand here and shine the light, and you hold that book, now imagine this light 5 times brighter. . .can you read that sentence easily? Now try to imagine a night without the moon, will you need two lights or one to chop a carrot in kitchen?"

Here's what I settled on:
(2) light bars, one 24" for kitchen and and one 12" in the back for ambient
(4) 3.2" 120 Lumen recessed ceiling lights, one over driver's/one over passenger seat and two in the cabin area over the pull-out dining table.  (These were ordered from the self-proclaimed "RV capital of the country": Elkhart, Indiana.)
(2) bendable/flexible snake lights installed on the wall above the bed for reading (rear most light can also be bent towards the back for Gear-age lighting).  Each will have its own switch.  Said and done, only spent $130.  -Delilah

In case you forgot, Shiloh is still cute.

Back to work! (Happy New Years/Bon Anne 2014!)

Took a bit of a ski break to catch up on our powder skills, but now we're back!  Here's what went down in 30 seconds or less:

1. Skied for 7 straight days and now we have thunder thighs.  Off-piste is boss!
2. Hung out and ate cheese with Daniel's family all over Europe, including challenging his father to a "Daileiboo " (pronounced die-lee-BOO) match (think: volley ball on a make-shift tennis court played by juggling and passing a soccer ball).

3. Successfully resisted the waffle craze in Belgium but wished we hadn't.
4. Ate a lot of Nutella.
5. Tried to buy a pair of Europants but couldn't find any.
6. Watched the Hobbit 2 in 3-D.
7. Got Nutella taken away from us at the security checkpoint at the airport.

It's been a few weeks away from the project, and it's a whole new year.  As we drove the 2 1/2 hours from Albany to the Northcountry last night and rambled right into our usual Sprinter brainstorming, we weren't able to throw out exact measurements of proposed fixtures just from memory like we were used to.  '18 inches on the pull-out table. . . and the inside depth of the coat cabinet is 14 inches, so that means. . .oh well if two storage totes stacked on top is max 4 feet, then you have 2 inches left for the slide mechanism. . .'  etc, etc, etc.  Instead we were pulling blanks.  That made brainstorming difficult, but in the back of my mind I thought it is probably healthy to have let some of those robot minutia slip away.

Today begins Phase II of the Sprinter build.  (We brought Phase I to a close by completing the insulation of the ceiling, walls, and floor.)  We will be installing the bed platform, side panels, and storage compartments.  I will also be completing the back log of entries from before the ski spree.  Cheers, and welcome to 2014!  -Delilah

Sparkle Pony has Black Death - Time to see Dr. A

Hundreds of years ago a devastating illness swept across Europe, taking out large swaths of the population, and turning everything black.  It did this by loosening the fuel injector hold down bolt and allowing exhaust gases to escape from the cylinder. The gases spray across the top of the cylinder head and, over time, accumulate into a crispy, deep fried, chicken-waffle that envelopes all the fuel injectors.  Unbeknownst to most people, the Black Death is still alive and viciously attacks engines of Dodge Sprinters.

And it was unbeknownst to us too until we removed the cylinder head cover, peered inside with our curious little noses, and saw the devastation.  Our fuel injectors were under a thick coating of crispy, deep fried, chicken-waffles.  Dan suggested we simply eat the chicken-waffles, which is his solution for most things, but Delilah threw that idea straight out of his noggen with a firm bonk.

The black chicken-waffles encrusted all over the fuel injectors

Dan is not pleased with his sooty thumb

 It was time to call Dr. A.

For those of you that have not heard about Dr. A let me inform you.  Dr. A is a mechanic of German descent who was born into the world with a wrench in one hand and a mop of fantastic hair in the other - which he promptly wrenched onto his head and still sports to this day.  At age 3, his parents returned home to see their Volkswagen in pieces in the yard and Dr. A with a grease smudged nose, sipping a glass of chocolate milk atop the engine block. At age 5, he fixed a flat tire just by looking at it.  And at age 12, he was contracted by Q himself to build an invisible, indestructible, flying car for the British.

So it was quite clear that this was the man we had to see.  Luckily, Dr. A resides in Pittsburgh, a short 3 hour drive from Baltimore, and so one sunny Saturday we scooted on up to see him.  As we pulled up, he ambled over to us with his fantastic blond mop of surfer hair, cut-off sweatpants, and the premier mechanic footwear sought after around the globe - Crocs.  We popped the hood, he grabbed the wrench that was welded to his hand at birth, and went to work.  2 of our injectors were leaking we had spent around a baker's dozen hours carefully excavating the injectors with screwdrivers, toothbrushes, toothpicks, and other dental hygiene instruments before we left. They were now far from clean and shiny, but at least not caked with chicken-waffles.  With one fell swoop (what is a fell swoop?) Dr. A simultaneously removed the old injectors and installed the new ones.  After a celebratory pizza party of the world's best Feta-Spinach-Onion pizza (possibly the only thing in this post that is not exaggerated) we shook hands with the world's most renowned Sprinter mechanic and his family and headed back to Baltimore with an engine that did not sputter like an old boat and did not smell like a flatulent skunk. It was a happy day for us all.

For the factoids among us:    Black Death is really a term used by Sprinter enthusiasts to describe fuel injector leakage.   Dr. A  is a real man, named Andy Bittenbinder, that knows more about Sprinters than likely anyone else alive.

In other news...we did this today!