I couldn’t afford a house by the beach, so I flipped the idea: instead of a home that stayed put, I bought one that could move. A home that could follow the coastline, drift inland, or park anywhere the light felt right.

Mornings meant salt on my skin, pancakes when I could be bothered, or paddling out for a surf. Sometimes I’d shoot scrappy little films just for fun. It wasn’t curated — sometimes the nights were freezing — but I wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

Over time I graduated rigs: Econovan → Hiace (with drawers under the bed) → my beloved ’85 Holden Drover → and now, the Defender 110. Each one taught me something new about comfort, capability, and what actually matters on the road.

Now I’m building the Defender properly: power, storage, comfort — a self‑sustaining rig that blurs the line between utility and art. Older, a little wiser, and going full send into a life that fits me better than any fixed address ever did.