Schadenfreude: direct result of camper van project

Have you heard of schadenfreude? It’s intricately linked with reading about camper van conversion projects, and if it’s not, someone is not telling the whole truth.

Schadenfreude means finding joy in the misery of others, finding pleasure in observing others’ misfortunes or failures. It’s a German word that has no direct English equivalent. ‘Gloating’ is similar, although it’s a verb rather than the state of mind that schadenfreude is.

Lest you believe that our project has proceeded perfectly, let me assure you we have experienced highs and lows, with plenty of discouragement, frustration, backaches and headaches in between. (See main photo, above, for samples of some tools we’ve used.)

I invite you now to engage in schadenfreude as you follow our top five trials and tribulations.

1. Sewing with magnets is no fun. I was sewing mosquito curtains to go in the side and back doorways. Magnets seemed the logical choice for the split down the middle – allowing us to come and go and have the two sides join quickly to keep out the bugs. As I sewed small magnets into the edging, I discovered that the pins, the sewing machine needle, the presser foot and my scissors all became magnetized. You try to snip a thread and the scissors fly across to the magnet or launch themselves toward the pins. As I walked toward the door to fit the curtain into the van, the whole curtain grabbed the corner of the wall, attracted by the metal corner under the drywall. At one level, it was funny, but I lost my magnetic sense of humour quickly. Especially when there are still gaps that let the mosquitoes in. I haven’t solved that problem yet.

2. Nothing is square or straight in a van. The walls curve front to back and top to bottom. Same with the doors and the ceiling. Whether cutting wood or fabric, you measure eight million times first, but then go to fit it in and the van has apparently stretched or shrunk because it doesn’t fit. It’s almost magical! Bill took apart and reassembled the main cabinet three times, trying to get the shelves square enough for the doors to operate smoothly. I discovered that even Velcro stretches over a span. We both have decades of experience with woodworking and sewing respectively, yet cupboards and curtains have turned out crooked and looking like they’d been gnawed on by squirrels. Not our best work, despite our best efforts. In short, it’s embarrassing and frustrating to show off the end product.

3. Gorilla Glue is terrible. In Fabricland, I discovered the high cost of sticky-back Velcro and was hemming and hawing about how much to buy. Another customer said to buy the cheaper sew-in Velcro and attach it with Gorilla Glue. Fantastic, I thought. So I bought Gorilla Glue to attach the Velcro needed to hold sections of the mosquito curtains in place (the parts not held by magnets). Well, what a mess. You must clamp it for three to four hours while the Gorilla Glue dries, and it expands as it dries, so you end up with yellow goo oozing out around the Velcro. It took three of us to apply the glue and clamps. Some of it dried crookedly, it all looked terrible, and it doesn’t even stick that well. Lesson? Spend the money on sticky-back Velcro.

4. Take a break. After a few weeks of working on the van every day, we were tired – physically and mentally, as we got sick of making decisions. How will we stop the bikes from flying forward? Where will we store the fridge? How do we attach the fold-down shelves and the solar panel? Our friend Kathleen told us we needed to take two days off in a row – just like a weekend break from work. She was right. We did that twice and it helped. Although we didn’t do work on the van, we couldn’t help thinking about the problems, mulling over solutions and sketching out plans for next steps. But it fortified us for more work.

5. Communications are the biggest issue. Or, rather, miscommunications. One day, Bill asked me to come and hold an electrical connector while he soldered it. He directed me to hold the vice grips, which held the connector. After he soldered, he said “Let go.” So I released my hands from the vice grips. “No, no! Unclamp it!” he said. “Well, that’s not what you said the first time,” I countered. On another banner day for communications, we were in our friend Arthur’s workshop, ‘debating’ how to attach shelves, while his son Galen worked on his own project. After listening to us for a while, Galen finally said: “I’ve concluded that good relationships don’t depend on good communications.” We laughed. He was right – we had been sorely guilty of bad communications. “And we have a strong marriage – can you imagine if we didn’t?” I said. Colin Wright, a blogger I follow, recently published a column entitled “Obvious,” saying “What’s obvious to me isn’t necessarily obvious to you, and the same is true in reverse.” Since then, we have often said to each other “What’s obvious to you…” as a warning that someone is assuming too much. Not saying who… Our daughter’s partner Coburn once said that “no matter which direction your relationship is headed, a tandem [two-person] bike will get you there faster.” We’ve found that camper van conversion projects will do the same.

We have watched hundreds of camper van conversion videos that show the project proceeding smoothly. Perhaps we’re exceptions to the rule but, more likely, everyone else was not sharing the whole truth. We hope you’ve found schadenfreude in reading about our travails.

But, just to burst your schadenfreude bubble, I’m happy to announce that Vandalf was complete enough for us to start a week-long trial-run trip on August 1 to Toronto to visit our daughter Liz. We’re on the road again, ready for more adventures!