There’s a certain magic that happens when the hiss of a camp stove blends with the rustle of pine needles, and your only neighbor is the Milky Way.

Boondocking—parking off-grid, far from the KOA hookups and neon-lit rest stops—isn’t just a way to save a few bucks. It’s a mindset. A rebellion against the schedule. And for those of us lucky (or stubborn) enough to call a Vanagon home, it’s the heartbeat of the journey.

Let’s get one thing out of the way: a Vanagon is not fast. It climbs hills like a hungover tortoise and drinks gas like it’s craft beer. But damn if it isn’t soulful. Ours is a ’91 Westy named Juniper, with rusted seams, a quirky fridge that sometimes works, and a pop-top that’s seen more sunrises than most people do in a lifetime.