The Joy of the Pointless Side Quest (van edition)
The joy of the pointless side quest - and why they are in fact, not pointless at all.
Story time. After my Spinal Cord Injury three years ago I decided to buy a van. Not just any van. An old van. The romantic ideal of the 1970’s VW Camper. Floral interiors, runs on rubber bands and hope.
You know the ones. The ones we all dreamed of during the Glastonbury heyday, when every summer felt like dancing flowers and hedonism with a hippy twist.
And this decision wasn’t a slow burn, oh no… this decision came like a cosmic slap in the face!
Visions of a singular adventure, faithful chaos pug licking the window, wind blowing through my hair with a carefree sigh and beads jingling from the rear view.
I was obsessed.
I pursued this plan with the fervour that only a near nervous breakdown can bring. I scoured marketplaces, i messaged, i researched, i screenshotted listings and scatter-gunned them out to my mechanically knowledged friends. I was unstoppable.
There was just one proverbial spanner in the works of this exciting grand van plan. I could barely drive.
And there’s was absolutely no practical universe in which this was going to happen anytime soon. Rehab was slowly Re-habbing but there’s only so far you can go when you can only really turn right, only park in spaces suitable for a bus due to terrible spatial awareness and an absolute mortal terror of going over 30mph..
But did that stop the side quest?
Nope.
After a year of Adventures lived purely in my head from my sofa, I was desperate for something to look forward to. Something that wasn’t recovery or rehab based, something that felt like possibility.
I needed anticipation and optimism. I needed a reason to imagine a future that felt expansive and real.
For me that future was a 1974 VW Camper with suspicious suspension and good vibes.
My heart was set.
But ‘just go on a holiday’, I hear you say ‘buy a new van with power steering and parking sensors’. And i say to you… where’s the romance in that!
The point of whimsy and side-quests, is they’re meant to make dreams reality, not bring reality into your dreams! And I was simply not ready to face reality.
The Wild Goose Chase Era
Armed with fantasy and enthusiasm, I grabbed my most faithful chaos gremlin and we embarked on a four month tour, discovering the prettiest, most whimsical, utterly unsuitable campervans the UK had to offer.
Ancients ones. Quirky ones. The ones that look like they’ve barely survived three decades, two owners and at least one questionable festival.
And through it all, my friend, legend of loyalty and unhinged enthusiasm joined me on every single van-viewing adventure.
No eye-rolls, no “this is unrealistic” bubble bursting, just pure commitment to my delusion.
Through quaint villages, sea-side towns, hills,valleys and muddy fields we found vans that…
Smelled like regret
Had more rust than structure
Started only after a thorough sage-ing and full prayer circle
Were described as ‘Quirky’ my personal call to arms.
Every single time we would inspect them like serious buyers, which i fully believed I was. We would test seats, open cupboards, discuss distance and road trips that I absolutely was not capable of making.
We scoured the South for the jewel in the treasure chest of transportation that would bring my vision to life.
Did I buy a van?
No. Not even close. But something even better happened.
You see your brain doesn’t know its pointless, your brain loves possibility. I may not have been physically road-tripping across the country but my mind was. I was planning routes, visualising sunsets through dusty windshields. My brain felt the adventure. That van wasn’t just a dream of transportation it was a vision of optimism on wheels.It gave me hope.
When you are rebuilding after any kind of trauma, sometimes what we really need is a little bit of joy. A lightness to the days and break from survival mode. A little pointless side quest, even if slightly absurd helps you remember you are still allowed to dream.
Even if the dream has flat tyres.
The Magic isn’t in the Destination, It’s in Who Shows Up
Here’s the real plot twist
Even though the side quest let me rekindle a sense of adventure, I discovered that the campervan was actually never the point.
The real healing happened in the excitement and laughter of a magical mystery tour. The shared delusion of each rust-buckets potential shared with a friend who treated my fragile hope like it was truly sacred.
Healing doesn’t always happen in the achieving of your goal. Sometimes it happens in the company.
For the record, three years on there’s still no van parked outside my house. There’s no ongoing restoration project or Pinterest Board filled with Van Life dreams. But I don’t regret a single moment of my pointless side quest (although the van owners might disagree)
Because the magic wasn’t in the buying of a van. It was found in having someone choose to sit in the passenger seat of my uncertain future and say with complete faith ‘where shall we go’.
Sometimes the real joy and healing has nothing to do with the side quest and everything to do the people who to join you for the ride.
xxx