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I Spent Thousands on a Van Remodel – What I Did Wrong

When 2020 brought with it a lot of uncertainty, I knew there was no better time to embrace van life.

I was working remotely, so I moved back to my family home in Ohio and spent two months and $12,500 transforming a 2012 Ford Transit Connect into what I affectionately call my microcab on wheels.

I’m proud of a lot of things, but since hitting the road I’ve learned a lot about what I should and shouldn’t do on my next project.

Here are my biggest regrets about the renovation process.

Working full-time on a van conversion wasn’t the ideal solution

I spent most mornings working on the van from 7 or 8 a.m. until I started work at 12 noon. Then I would return to work at 8 or 9 p.m. and work until the early hours of the next morning.

This allowed me to continue working remotely full-time for a Los Angeles-based startup while continuing to work on the project.

I managed to get back on the road quickly, but the schedule was tight and burnout was real.

There were times when I would pore over a puzzle and cry from exhaustion and frustration, and other times I would make stupid mistakes because I was rushing to finish before work.

I regret not investing in bigger equipment from the very beginning


exterior shot of the abbey van with the stone structures in the background

I chose a smaller van, but next time I will choose a larger one.

Abigail Robertson



There are a few vehicle models that are almost ubiquitous in the van lifestyle: the Mercedes Sprinter, RAM Promaster, and Ford Transit.

They are long, tall, and allow for additional features like showers and kitchens. They also cost about three to four times more than my total budget before the renovation.

I wanted to get on the road as quickly as possible while keeping costs down, so I chose a smaller van.

But when I start planning my next project, I’ll choose something that I can comfortably host my partner, friend, and dogs in, as well as something that has extra space for bikes and climbing gear.

Trying to build in the dead of winter in the Midwest was a big mistake.

On weekends I often worked eight hours straight in the snow and cold, and Ohio winters are not kind.

My best friend is a trusty, insulated Carhartt suit, but I would never recommend him for a winter trip.

Glue won’t hold at 9 degrees, wet paint doesn’t always dry to the proper finish or colour when it’s too cold, and trying to do jobs that require fine motor skills while wearing gloves is a serious drain on morale.

Building out of state without paying attention to detail made things difficult

When I got home to Ohio, I planned to find a van, modify it, and drive back to California within two or three months. However, I quickly learned that getting out-of-state registration and getting the van from point A to point B without incurring huge fines was no easy feat.

I knew I would save money by buying a van in rural Ohio, but it didn’t occur to me that the logistics of building it and making its first trip would be limited by registration details.

The timeline for the long, leisurely trip I had envisioned suddenly began to focus on the expiration date of my temporary credentials.

I would like to see some additional facilities installed


interior of the abbey van with sink and couch

Having a bathroom would make a huge difference.

Abigail Robertson for Insider



I knew my little van would be no match for the shiny “mobile apartments” circulating on social media.

In many ways, this is exactly what I wanted. As an avid backpacker and camper, I didn’t want to lose that “outdoorsy” feeling that I love about nature.

But building a van without any creature comforts means I have to adjust how I travel and prioritize proximity to essentials like showers and toilets. Unless I want to haul a folding toilet in my van, I have to camp in specific locations, not in the middle of nowhere.

Even though I invested in a portable shower, I envy those traveling in larger vehicles or campers who don’t have to go to the bathroom in the dark or in inclement weather.

Insisting on building it yourself wasn’t very satisfying in the end

Whenever you see a beautifully built, woman-owned van on social media, check the comments. The most common one you’ll see is, “Did you build that yourself?”

I wanted to be able to answer “yes” without hesitation, thereby proving all the subtle misogynists asking the question wrong.

In fact, I relied heavily on the knowledge of my dad and uncle. They helped me refresh the skills I learned in high school shop classes and take them to the next level. They also put in extra effort when I was working.

I have a lot of great memories working on the van with them, but there are things we probably would have saved time and effort on if we had outsourced the work.

Even if it ended up costing a little more, it was still worth it for our mental health and peace of mind.

My delivery van runs on renewable energy, so it would be nice to have permanent solar panels

I had decided early on that my delivery van would run mainly on solar power, but due to cost and time considerations, purchasing solar panels was out of the question.

For the first two months on the road, I charged the battery—which powered my lights, fan, and electronics chargers—via shore power (the kind of outlet at campgrounds that plugs directly into my van). A few months ago, I invested in a 100-watt solar panel, and everything has been running on renewable energy ever since.

But the panels aren’t attached to my roof, so I have to carry them in and out of the van every time I use them. They’re big, heavy and delicate, and attaching them to the roof of my van would make a huge difference.

Next time I will invest in a van with four-wheel drive


the abbey's van stands in a forest full of trees on a gravel road

I’m always afraid of driving off-road in my van.

Abigail Robertson for Insider



I haven’t run into any terrain-related issues yet, but I always think about it when looking for campsites on dirt roads.

Sometimes I have to get out and walk the route to make sure I can negotiate sandy or muddy areas while people in Sprinters and Transits drive past.

Purchasing a non-four-wheel drive van allowed me to keep costs low, but the investment would be worth it.

I didn’t set myself a very realistic construction schedule.

I purchased the van on December 22, 2020 and started driving on February 21, 2021.

Over the course of those two months, my dad and I stripped the van down, installed flooring, insulation, wood paneling, and electrical, and built cabinets, an overhead bin, and a pull-down bed.

Did I mention this all happened during a nine-hour workday?

Spreading out the build would have given me more days off—I took exactly two days off—and peace of mind. I could also plan more time ahead and spend more time considering whether I was happy with how things were going.

My limited budget ended up not being that effective

While setting a budget was helpful in giving me a general outline of how I wanted to divide up my investment, the reality of working on such a large project was brutal.

When I started, 2x4s were almost $7 a board—the highest cost in 13 years. Plus, you don’t always know what you need until you start moving. Those extra $40 here for flooring and $20 there for more panels add up.

After purchasing the van for $9,000, I knew I wanted to invest $3,000 at most, and I was pretty close.

But since then, I’ve invested another $1,000 in things like solar panels, showers, and safety measures that I could never have afforded in my original budget.

I now treat building a van as an ongoing expense, like rent, that I continually save for and invest in, rather than as a one-time purchase.

This story was originally published on August 8, 2021, and was last updated on August 2, 2024.