I Lived In A Luxury Van For A Week, And It Was Almost As Good As A Real Apartment

It started out as a joke. “Hey, Airstream wants to lend us a fancy touring van for a week. What should we do with it?,” said Matt DeBord, Business Insider's transportation editor.

“I don’t know, man,” I said. “Maybe I’ll live in it. It’s probably nicer than my apartment.”

And with that it was done. I had spoken without thinking, my mother’s cardinal sin. As much as I tried to backpedal, I was going to live in a van down by the river — a joke I now never want to hear again — for a week.

I found myself on the following Monday morning sitting on a bench outside my tiny Greenpoint, Brooklyn, apartment, waiting for the van.

Monday

My first impression of the 2015 Airstream Interstate Grand Tour EXT Touring Coach was, Damn, this thing is huge. The Grand Tour, which is basically a tricked-out 24-foot-long Mercedes Sprinter Van, is also a huge challenge to park, as I learned watching the nice folks who dropped it off try to do in a small space in front of my building.

Then I climbed inside. This beast of a van had everything.

Two TVs! Two sinks! A normal-size bed! Granite countertops! No way — a microwave! These thoughts ran through my mind so fast that I almost missed the retractable awning, which can be extended from the van to provide shade for barbecues and the like.

At $153,000, the Interstate Grand Tour is the product of a 10-year partnership with Mercedes Benz and Airstream, in an effort to modernize and refine the Airstream brand. Airstream builds their luxury vans on MB chassis, and MB sells them at their dealerships.

The van has a gas-powered generator, propane, and water tank, all of which allow for pretty much self-sustained living, even when the van’s engine isn’t on. There was an onboard heater and air-conditioner, a refrigerator and a freezer, a two-burner stovetop, several tables, and as much storage as you could ever want.

While it's meant for traveling and road-tripping in luxury, the van felt like a tiny apartment on wheels.

This might be fun, I thought.

I drove around for 20 minutes trying to find a parking space that wasn’t in front of a fire hydrant, and then activated the bed and tested out my sleeping arrangements. The bed, which mechanically folded down from a bench seat, was roughly king-size, if a bit shorter. I’m a tall guy, so I had to position myself diagonally. Seatbelt clips poked me in my back. I looked up and saw my breath hang in the air of the cold van. Outside, the loud sounds of industrial Greenpoint buzzed away. I started having second thoughts.

I headed into the office and passed around my phone to show photos to all my coworkers, who were impressed by "Helen," my grandmother's name and the name I'd given the van. And I began to dread the evening ahead of me.

“Excited for your first big night in the van?” one person asked.

“Oh, yeah — can’t wait!” I said, lying.

After work, I got dinner with friends. We finished off a round of after-dinner drinks, and my companions looked like they were thinking about heading home. But I begged them to stay. Anything to put off the inevitable tossing and turning and poking from metal objects.

Several rounds later, I shuffled off to my new van-away-from-home. I turned on the heater, which was much louder than I'd expected, grabbed the thin blanket left for me, folded down my bed, and drifted off to a light, dreamless sleep.

Tuesday

Confession time: After tossing and turning for five hours, I snuck home to sleep an extra two hours in my warm, soft bed. So sue me.

After I arrived at work and once again faced myriad questions from coworkers, it became increasingly clear to me that the curiosity wouldn't stop until I returned the van, and that I was in for the long haul.

I decided to man up and commit to van life.

After work I swung by the grocery store, then went home to pack a bag and grab some DVDs for the onboard TVs. I unloaded my gear and settled in, stretching my legs and getting a real lay of the land. I could almost stand up straight in the van, but found that being six-two had me constantly hunched over for fear of smashing my head on some object on the ceiling. I tested out all the seats, turned on the radio loud, and opened all the drawers and storage spaces.

This thing was starting to feel more homey.

I cooked Italian sausages in one of the pans that came with the van. It’s harder than you would imagine to cook on a stovetop that's pitched slightly downward because of the parking space you've chosen. Also, I worried about the smoke coming from the pan. Luckily, there was a small air vent in the ceiling.

After microwaving a paper bowl full of canned chili (bachelor life at its finest), I settled down at one of the foldout tables and attempted to pop in a DVD. It was then that I realized what I thought was a DVD player was Blu-ray. Seriously, who has Blu-ray discs laying around?

Since I had no form of entertainment, I ate my food, made my bed, and turned in early. (It’s amazing how much more a place can feel like a home when you make the bed.)

Wednesday

I woke up better rested and attempted to take a shower in the bathroom, which converts into a shower stall. I fiddled with the many knobs and switches in the van, but couldn't figure out how to get the water to get hot. I shrugged it off and headed to work, knowing any odors emanating from me could be written off because of my living situation.

But first, I had to find a new parking space as my current one had to be vacated for street cleaning. Driving around my neighborhood early in the morning was oddly relaxing and a great way to start a day. I sort of wished I could do it every day. Sort of.