What Working From the Road Actually Looks Like (I Did It for a Year) |

I wrote about becoming a digital nomad years before I ever tried it. Then I actually did it.

The old version of this post was written by someone who hadn't done it yet.

It had all the usual promises...trade forty hours for fifteen, build passive income, pack a bag, live the dream. I believed it when I wrote it. It just wasn't true in the way I thought.

So let me replace it with the real thing.

I sold most of what I owned, remodeled a van, and spent a year working full time from the road. Not a sabbatical, not a highlight reel — a regular job with regular deadlines, done from campsites and hotel rooms across the country.

Here's what nobody tells you.

The good part first: it genuinely works

The single most important thing I learned is that you really can do your job from almost anywhere.

The best example: a campsite at the top of the Rockies in Colorado. No power. No running water. No cell service. And I put in a full eight-hour workday on solar and a laptop without a single hiccup.

Sit with that for a second. Off-grid on a mountain, running everything online, no problem.

We washed off in a stream, cooked over a fire, hiked, and I still logged a normal day's work. If part of you wonders whether remote work is really possible outside a home office — it is. That part isn't a fantasy.

What it actually looked like day to day

Here's the rhythm nobody puts in the reel:

Wake up at 4am. Work eight hours to get my day in. Pack up the entire van. Drive for hours. Unpack. Restock food. Try to see something before dark. Do laundry at some point. Sleep. Two days later, do it all again.

I was working forty-hour weeks the entire time. That's why I never posted any of it online. I wasn't performing the adventure, I was living it and working through it simultaneously, and there wasn't much left over.

We were also moving on someone else's schedule. My husband Aaron works on the road, so our route was built around his jobs, not around what I would have planned. It took us to towns I'd never have chosen, some of which turned out to be the best parts, but it also meant ping-ponging up and down California instead of taking the coast once, properly.

The stuff that went wrong

Three days in, we had to replace all four tires in Tennessee. So much for the money I thought I was saving by not paying rent.

Finding places to sleep was nothing like YouTube suggested. Because van life got popular, "no overnight parking" signs are everywhere now. Luckily, I came prepared with apps and backup options and always found something — usually an actual campsite, never more than about $26 a night — but it took real planning every single day.

Everything takes longer than you think. Every single thing. Budget accordingly.

I didn't love driving the van. White-knuckling ten-percent mountain grades and windy plains genuinely stressed me out. I was proud of what I'd built, and I loved sleeping in it (that mattress was fantastic!) but the driving never stopped being work.

The unglamorous middle

Some things I genuinely loved: constant novelty. Never having to clean much. Local food, local culture, a new view every few days. Ten thousand steps a day without trying. Time with Aaron. Living with very little stuff.

And some things wore me down: waiting on laundry in a laundromat because if you leave, someone pulls your clothes out. Missing a real kitchen. Wearing the same seven outfits on rotation. The endless packing, loading, unloading, driving.

Constant motion feels like freedom right up until you realize you have no home base. That was the surprise. I thought I was trading stability for adventure. What I was actually trading was a base, and it turns out I use that more than I knew.

Why I sold the van a year later

I sold it. No regrets whatsoever.

Because now I know, instead of spending the rest of my life wondering "what if" about the version of van life that lives online.

I proved I can work from anywhere on earth.

I also learned that for me, freedom isn't constant motion, it's having a home base and taking real trips from it. Both of those are worth knowing, and I couldn't have learned either one from reading about it.

That's the actual case for trying things. Not that they'll all work out. That you stop wondering.

Should you try the digital nomad lifestyle?

Honestly? Maybe. Just go in with the real math:

It's a job, not a vacation. If you're working full time, you're working full time. The scenery changes; the workload doesn't.

Plan to stay put longer than you think. Our best days by far were the ones where we stayed at the same campsite two nights instead of moving every day. If I did it again, that's the one thing I'd change.

Test before you commit. Rent something for a few weeks before you sell your furniture. Your future self will thank you.

Have real internet. Starlink made off-grid workdays possible. That's not optional if your income depends on being online.

And treat the whole thing as an experiment, not a life sentence. You can't fail an experiment — you either love it or you learn something. I learned something, sold the van, and moved forward without the "what if" hanging over me.

Just because I sold the van doesn't mean I gave up entirely. I still have all of the tools I used including the Jackery power with Solar Panels I have used during power outages, Starlink internet that I can throw in a backpack with my laptop and work for a day at the beach, and all of the other gadgets that I still use.

What really shifted for me was my thinking. I don't feel tied down to my home base. I get out more and try more things instead of being chained to my computer. I'm more flexible than I used to be and have more of a "go with the flow" attitude.

My Advice: Go do the thing. You might love it, you might not. But then you'll know.

The year on the road taught me more about energy and motivation than any book did. If you want the science underneath it, start with The Basics of DOSE →.

About the Author:

Julie Lewis

Nutrition Coach | Gamification Expert | Online Business Strategist | Tech Explorer

Julie helps solopreneurs turn grind into flow — building momentum in life and business using the science of engagement. [More about the FROG method →]