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The First Knock is the Deepest 

I bought my van Rolo at the end of 2020–a Ford Transit 250 medium roof RWD (which became a challenge in muddy terrain). I had left my office job two years prior and had been strategizing how to maintain my nomadic ways in the midst of a global pandemic. After I bought the van, my restlessness got the better of me, and I decided to test out the life no-build style. 

So, I threw a mattress in the back, hung up an old blackout curtain I found in my parents’ attic, and left South Carolina in the wee hours of the morning, headed for Florida and the promise of a new adventure.

Rolo’s pre-build cargo area (although we had done the floor already)

I’d driven this route many times before on my way to visit my sister and brother-in-law in Vero Beach: Take I-26 from Columbia to connect with 95 to Savannah and ride it all the way down through Jacksonville, Daytona Beach, and Palm Bay. It’s a simple route, easily accomplished in 9 hours if you plan around tourists, snowbirds, and the inevitable accidents and slowdowns that plague 95 South. I was making good time, but I wanted to christen Rolo as a true camper van by taking my first sleep in it, so I decided to pull off at the Georgia Welcome Center.

If you’ve never been there, it’s a massive facility–22,000 square feet of bathrooms, vending machines, travel guides, picnic areas, and plenty of parking for the weary traveler. I’d been there once before back when I had my little Ford Fiesta, and I liked the privacy afforded by the ample parking space, so I was excited to stop there and test out my new mattress for a quick nap. 

Source: iStock

When I was researching van life, I read through veterans’ stories about the dreaded Knock–usually a cop or some other authority figure telling you to pack up and move along or simply checking in on your safety. As a horror movie nerd, it takes a lot to frighten me, but I have a phobia of knocking. Pounding on doors especially spikes those stress hormones. 

I wanted to avoid The Knock at all costs, so I studied local laws about sleeping in your vehicle, investigated best practices for stealth, and read through current van lifers’ tips and tricks. Some states allow you to sleep overnight; some states limit your stay to a few hours. Georgia doesn’t allow overnight stays, but there’s no limit otherwise, so I assumed I was okay for a 30-minute power nap, undisturbed by that awful sound that haunted my nightmares.

Boy, was I wrong!

Well, not wrong. More like unlucky.

My dog Judy as we embarked upon our adventure.

Less than 15 minutes into my stupor, I was awakened by a loud banging on my driver-side window, sending my dog Judy into hysterics and causing me to jump out of my skin. I peeked through the blackout curtain and saw two state troopers standing there, all sunglassed-up and shining in the sun like newborn police babies.

“Can I help you?” I said as Judy barked bloody murder into my ear.

With an air of overblown suspicion, one of the cops muttered, “Step out of the vehicle.”

Judy’s face when she’s on the defense!

When they asked me why I was sleeping in my vehicle (surrounded by dozens of other travelers also sleeping in theirs), I explained that I had just purchased the van, and I was traveling down to Florida to visit family. They proceeded to inform me that I hadn’t just purchased my van, and I wasn’t traveling down to Florida. No! Instead, I was a squatter, illegally sleeping overnight at the welcome center for the past few months!

“Where did you get that idea?” I said, offering to show them the transaction papers in my glovebox.

Refusing to look at the papers, one of them gestured toward the welcome center: “They told us.”

Rather than asking why the staff wouldn’t check the real perp’s license plate and if they were in the habit of accusing every owner of a white Ford Transit 250 of trespassing/loitering, I simply let them do their routine and found a better place to nap further down the interstate.

Spoiler alert! We made it to Florida.

And that is the story of my first time sleeping in the van which coincided with my first (and only) knock! It wasn’t as scary as I thought it would be, even if it was initially alarming. It even provided the assurance that, armed with the right knowledge of regional laws, I could successfully navigate sleeping while on the road. 

If you’re discovering van life for the first time, know that you’ll likely be on the receiving end of The Knock one of these days. Just remember: The first knock is the deepest. Don’t let it stop you from living your dream.

For a deeper look into overnight parking rules in interstate rest areas, you can check it out here!

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