Buying a vehicle off Gumtree while navigating a foreign country and a foreign side of the road was not on my bingo card for this year. But then again, very little about this year has been predictable.
We bought a 2019 Mercedes Sprinter. Cargo van. White. Right-hand drive (obviously, because Scotland). Three seats up front and a whole lot of nothing in the back. Which is exactly what we wanted.
Why a van?
Colletta is in storage in Southern California. She's not coming to Scotland. The roads here are not designed for a 31-foot Airstream and a full-size pickup. Some of the roads near our cottage aren't designed for anything larger than a Land Rover, and even that feels optimistic on the single-track sections.
But we still need to haul materials to the cottage renovation. We need a vehicle big enough for a family of four plus building supplies. And, if I'm being honest, the itch to build something hasn't gone away. It never does.
So: Sprinter. The plan is to convert the cargo area into a camper van that can double as a family hauler. Not as ambitious as the Airstream build, but ambitious enough to keep me busy through the dark Scottish winter months.
Finding her
Gumtree is the Scottish Craigslist, essentially. I spent three weeks scrolling listings, filtering by year, mileage, and price, and trading messages with sellers who ranged from professional to "I'll get back to you, mate" and then never did.
The Sprinter we found was listed by a small commercial vehicle dealer about two hours from where we're staying. Carol drove down with me (navigating from the passenger seat, which here is the left side, which still messes with my head). We test drove it. The engine sounded good. The mileage was reasonable. The cargo area was a blank canvas.
We bought it on the spot.
The three-seat problem
Here's the thing about buying a cargo van: it comes with a driver's seat, a passenger seat, and one additional seat up front. We are a family of four. This math does not work.
We figured we'd find and install rear seats quickly. We figured wrong. Finding approved seats for a Sprinter conversion in Scotland, getting them rated for road use, and actually installing them has been an ongoing project. In the meantime, we rented a car, which actually had an unexpected benefit: Carol was forced to start driving on the left immediately rather than putting it off.
She hit a stone wall with the rental car mirror within the first week. She's fine now. The wall is fine. The mirror was replaced. We don't talk about it.
The conversion plan
I've been working on the layout in SketchUp. The general plan: rip out the dividing wall between the cab and the cargo area, insulate everything, install back seats that can fold flat, build a simple galley kitchen along one side, and wire it for solar. Not a full-time home like Colletta. More of a weekend adventure vehicle that can also haul sheets of plywood to the cottage on weekdays.
The Airstream build taught me everything I need to know about electrical systems and insulation. This time I'm working with a smaller space, a different climate (Scotland is wet, not dry like the American Southwest), and a right-hand-drive vehicle, which changes the layout in ways I'm still working through.
Calvin wants bunk beds. Millie wants it painted pink. Neither of those things is going to happen, but I appreciate the input.
What this van means to us
Colletta represented freedom from the conventional path. The van represents something slightly different: the ability to keep exploring even after we've put down roots. Scotland is surrounded by islands, coastline, and highlands that are begging to be explored on weekends. The van gives us that without having to book Airbnbs every time.
It's also, I'll admit, an excuse to build something. I need projects. Carol knows this. The kids know this. If I go more than a few weeks without something to design, wire, or assemble, I get restless. The van is therapy with a socket wrench.
The name problem
We have a tradition in this family that I didn't plan but now can't break. Every vehicle gets a name, and the names always follow the same pattern: F for one, C for the other.
It started with our Minis — Fabio and Carmela. Then came the F-150 and the Airstream — Frank and Colletta. When we got a green Mini here in Scotland, Fern was obvious. Which means the Sprinter needs a C name.
We don't have one yet. Calvin has suggestions (most of them involve fictional characters). Millie wants something that "sounds fast." Carol keeps vetoing everything I propose, which is fair because my first suggestion was Cornelius and I can see now that was wrong.
So the Sprinter is currently just "the Sprinter," which feels like calling your dog "Dog." It works, but it's not right. If you've got a strong opinion on a male C name for a white 2019 Mercedes Sprinter being slowly converted into a camper van on the Isle of Skye, we're genuinely open to suggestions.
Follow along as this thing goes from cargo van to camper. I'll be sharing the build process, the mistakes (there will be many), and hopefully some weekend adventures once she's ready.
