List-checking at the table in Buster—my favorite Virgo activity and a ritual of the slow lane.
Aloha!
Medium killed its Boost program—the human curation system that got good writing in front of new readers and made it possible to earn real income from an essay. I had three pieces that were pretty great: An Emu Named Lucille, Dead Presidents in a Paint Can, and a Facebook Marketplace essay that made me cry a little writing it.
They sat. They withered. They died. Not one of them found its audience—not because they weren't good, but because the Boost program has died and no longer exists.
That hurts the heart and the pocketbook in equal measure.
So I’m building something here instead—on ground I actually own. No algorithm deciding whether your morning deserves it. Just the writing, the road, and whatever story I’m sitting with that week. You followed me this far. I’m glad you’re here.
So, here is a new Bus Life Experience—to go with that morning coffee or afternoon glass of wine.
The Human Squirrel
It is 8:00 a.m. on a Tuesday morning and I am sitting in my bus under the shade awning in the Albertsons parking lot, having just finished my grocery shopping and feeling accomplished for beating the Arizona triple digits. Tim McGraw is crooning through my pink Bluetooth speaker, instructing us to ‘just be kind’ in that specific southern twang that is all Tim.
I am joyfully checking off my neathly handwritten list—with various colors of pens. As a Virgo, list-checking is one of my favorite activities, and if I was going to be honest, I have leaned harder into lists, as I've gotten older.
Then my passenger door flew open and a stick-skinny, beanie-wearing boy with missing teeth hopped in. He looked like a human squirrel—wide-eyed, twitchy, seeming to have just remembered where he buried a nut ten years ago—announcing that this was a carjacking and demanding that I drive.
Perhaps my life should have flashed before my eyes. Perhaps I should have cried out, or used the mace dangling from my keychain, or simply driven. I did none of those things. I just stared at him in stunned silence and, when I found my voice, it only asked: “Are you high?”
Because we are in Scottsdale, Arizona. The richest zip code in the state. Home of Barrett-Jackson and Billionaires Row. I slowly swiveled my head, pointing to the cars sitting in the same lot as us: Porsche. Porsche. Ferrari. McLaren. Corvette. Oh—another Porsche.
His eyes followed my fingers, taking inventory, as if he had just woken from a deep sleep and found himself in Wonderland.
"This is a bus," I said. "Not even a new one. Not a Sprinter Van, not a Ram Van. A bus. Pedal to the metal, this thing tops out at 45 mph."
The math began to dawn on him. Out of every carjacking potential in that lot, he had chosen the worst one.
"Oh yeah. Sorry about that. My bad." He opened the door and sauntered away.
I watched him disappear into the Arizona heat. The parking lot quiet—just Tim McGraw, still reminding me to be kind. I looked down at my color-coded notebook and wrote in a new item—and then checked it off in blue highlighter: Survive an attempted carjacking.
When you drive a 53-year-old Westfalia, the slow lane isn't a choice—it's a condition. You learn not to take anything for granted, including speed. It turns out that kind of patience extends beyond the road. A human squirrel looking for a getaway landed in a vehicle that doesn't do getaways. He wanted fast; he got a rolling negotiation with patience.
I turned the key, waited for the familiar rumble of the engine, and merged into traffic at a blistering 30 mph — safe in the knowledge that Buster and I were the least stealable thing in the richest zip code in the state.
The Road Ahead
The website is looking good and the Store is stocked—cards, the book, shirts.
I’ve also put together a little something for you: "The Essentials." It’s a three-chapter sampler of my book, Shelter in Motion, covering the core pillars of this life. Some call it a lead magnet; I prefer to think of it as a love letter to anyone who has ever felt the itch to leave. You can download it here.
Dusting off the deck: Holding the Wheel of Fortune and preparing for the next turn in the road.
Dusting off the Deck: While I’m packing, I’ve also been dusting off my Tarot cards. I’m preparing to offer "Buster Readings"—virtual sessions from the road for travelers and creators in transition. Keep an eye out for a "Traveler’s Compass" reading in my next dispatch from the road.
Life in Motion: Kiwi Chris has officially landed in Fairbanks, Alaska—training, flying, and digging every cold, remote minute of it. One of his first treks was a flight out to the massive oil rigs, a stark contrast to the Arizona heat. We’ve got one month down and five to go before we are reunited in September.
A view from the cockpit: Chris’s first remote trek out to the oil rigs in the Alaskan wild.
And me? I hit the road for Grass Valley in less than a week. Buster is ready. The list is checked. Tim McGraw approves.
I’m building this new home so we can actually talk. Hit 'Reply' and let me know: Have you ever had a 'My Bad' moment that turned into a great story? I read every single one.
Until next time—keep moving,
Heather & Kiw Chris