The Pea Project – Part 3: Improvised, Not Perfect

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                     The paint wasn’t even properly dry and we carried straight on. Interior build. For now we skipped insulation completely. Same with a roof vent and side windows — mainly because of time, not because we suddenly decided we don’t need them. Quite the opposite. But for the first trip they weren’t life-or-death items. At that moment, two things were non-negotiable: a bed and a kitchen. Let’s start with the bed. Somewhere, there was a slatted bed base lying around. Naturally not one that fit the van. But it was far too big for its new job — which made it the perfect starting point. Four hours of sawing, drilling and swearing later, everything fit that previously… didn’t. What was still missing was the mattress. And that turned out to be less trivial than expected. Because the bed isn’t a standard size, we had to improvise. A custom mattress will come later — once we’ve given the whole “bed concept” the green li...
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The Pea Project – Part 1: Minimal Effort, Maximum Freedom

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The Pea Project
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After the Move: What Do I Do With My Panel Van?

Once the move was done and I’d hauled all my worldly possessions from Germany to Poland, I was left with one very practical, slightly existential question: what do I do with my van?

It’s a 2009 Sprinter, H2L2 — mid-length, mid-height. These days it has nearly 360,000 kilometres on the clock and a bodywork situation that can best be described as: rust, rust, dents, dings — and yes, more rust.

Technically, though, it’s doing surprisingly well. I’ve been driving it for almost ten years and treated it fairly gently — not “museum gentle”, but “I don’t drive it like I stole it” gentle. In return, the Benz has repaid me with absolute reliability.

Apart from normal wear items like brakes and tyres, only two bigger things have failed in recent years: the intake manifold (because of course it’s plastic) cracked, and the propshaft eventually decided it had done enough for one lifetime.

All in all, I’m more than happy with that. My trust in this vehicle is very high — so high that I really don’t want to part with it. Which is slightly irrational, considering the rust has started forming its own social life.

After a long back and forth, I finally made a decision: I scrapped the original plan of buying a finished motorhome. Instead, I’m going to build my own home on wheels and convert the Sprinter into a camper.

Why It Took So Long to Decide

Before you decide on a motorhome — or build one yourself — I think you need to be clear about one basic thing: what do I actually want a motorhome for?

Where do I want to go?
Will I stay mostly on paved roads, or do I want to head off into the middle of nowhere now and then?
Is it camping sites only, or do I want to be as self-sufficient as possible? And if yes: for how long?
Do I park up once and stay there all holiday — or do I keep moving, exploring, changing spots like I’m allergic to settling?
And do I want — or even need — to use the vehicle as a daily driver?

Only when those questions are answered does the equipment question really start: What do I actually need? What do I want? What is non-negotiable — and what can I live without?

Then come the detail questions: How should the bed be arranged — up high or down low, lengthwise or crosswise? Do I need a shower and a toilet? Where does the kitchen go, and how should it be built? Where do cupboards and shelves live?

Technical and legal aspects matter too. Does the bulkhead stay, or can it go? If it goes: do I need to re-register the van from commercial vehicle to motorhome? Then there’s windows, electrics, wastewater, insulation. Solar, extra batteries, awning — the list gets long very quickly.

And as if that wasn’t enough, there’s also the question of looks: What should it look like inside? And outside? Which paint, which colours — subtle, loud, or somewhere in between?

All of that needed thinking through. That’s exactly why it took so long for the decision to feel “final”. Not completely final — but final enough to start somewhere. And, most importantly, final enough to get a camper on the road with a temporary setup and test it in real life. Because nothing reveals your brilliant ideas faster than reality — preferably in the rain.

The First Decisions

For the start, we decided on the following:

Paint and exterior look

For paint, we’ll look for something as scratch-resistant as possible. If you head off into the backcountry, you will meet branches and bushes — it’s not a question of “if”, it’s a question of “how many”. And if it’s backcountry, then properly — with all-terrain tyres. Colour-wise, we’ve chosen a combination of green and black for the exterior.

Windows, roof & ventilation

We’re adding only one window — narrow, with a fly screen — in the sliding door. Since the kitchen unit will sit in that area, the window is meant to provide fresh air while cooking. Especially on cold or rainy days, when the sliding door has to stay shut, that matters a lot.

On the roof there will be a roof hatch for decent ventilation, and a roof rack is planned as well. Access to the roof will be via a side ladder — because climbing like a reluctant mountain goat is apparently part of the lifestyle now.

Bathroom, electrics & tech

For now, we’ll skip a conventional bathroom with shower and toilet. We’re also skipping solar and additional batteries — at least initially. The bulkhead between cargo area and cabin will be removed, and the vehicle will be registered as a motorhome.

Cab

The cab will be modified too. Instead of the current two-seat passenger bench, we’ll install a single seat — giving us a clear walk-through to the back. Both seats will get swivel bases to make better use of the living space.

Sleeping

The bed will be fixed — no folding, rebuilding, or sliding things around. The plan is a permanent sleeping platform crosswise to the direction of travel. The sleeping area sits up high, roughly 120 cm above the floor.

Storage

Under the bed will be the “boot” — plenty of room for luggage, equipment, and everything you want to have with you on the road. In other words: the part that will fill up immediately, no matter how minimal I swear I’m going to be.

Once our cornerstones were set, we wanted to get inspired — forums, Facebook groups, Instagram, and especially YouTube. At least that was the plan.

But I quickly realised one thing: from my point of view, that only helps to a certain degree.

You get buried under an avalanche of information. It hits you, drags you along, and eventually spits you out — with the result that you somehow know less than before. Suddenly you doubt your plan, your own ideas, and even the base vehicle.

Why? Because everyone builds to their own needs — which is perfectly fine. It becomes a problem when people present their own build as the only “right” way. You can read that loud and clear in countless comments.

Honestly? I couldn’t care less who thinks what is right or wrong, or which solution gets stamped as “cheap”. I’m building this so it works for me — and makes us happy.

I don’t care that my base vehicle isn’t a near-new van with low mileage.
It doesn’t bother me that there’s no air conditioning.
And I’m not losing sleep if someone thinks a vehicle without a bathroom, toilet, or solar doesn’t “deserve” the name motorhome.

Simply put: not my problem.

Three Things That Matter to Me

  1. Cost
    It must not swallow tens of thousands. I don’t need a condominium on wheels.
  2. Using what we already have
    First and foremost, we’ll build with what’s already available — materials and equipment.
  3. Maximum flexibility
    Anything newly bought or installed must be compatible with other vehicles.
    Plug-and-play is the magic formula.

That way, components like the fridge, inverter, generator, heater, or power bank can also be used in other vehicles — whether that’s the Porsche “Marrakesh”, the boat, or especially the Land Rover.

Speaking of the Land Rover — that’ll be one of the next projects: 4×4, for every road, every destination. Worldwide. Because clearly, I’m not aiming for calm, simple hobbies.

And these things should be usable at home as well — in the house or the garden.

The goal: maximum flexibility — and a bit of security. Security in the sense that, if needed, I can move the equipment from the “old” camper into another vehicle quickly. For example after an accident, a major failure, or if a write-off starts to look very real.

Time Over Perfection

Another very important aspect is time.

This project must not drag on for years. It doesn’t need to be 100% finished right away — but it needs to work. In a way that allows us to leave at any time.

The ambition is clear: maximum satisfaction with minimal effort, in the shortest possible time.

Perfection is secondary. What matters is that everything reliably does its job. The build can grow, change, and evolve with experience on the road. But in the beginning, it’s mainly about being mobile — not about polishing every detail to the last millimetre.

Because a camper that drives and gets used is worth more than a Sagrada Família-style project — a construction site for eternity.

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