When I came back to the U.S. after years abroad, I had one thing on my mind: find the truck.
Red. Manual. First-gen Tacoma. ARB bumper. Lifted. Access cab.
I was obsessed—and eventually, she found me.
Zorro.
To me, a truck isn’t just a vehicle. It’s freedom. A direct route to the mountains. Shelter on wheels. Simplicity in motion.
At the time, I was renting an overpriced apartment in Denver with mystery plumbing issues and zero soul. So I did what any stubborn, freedom-chasing creative would do...
I got out of my lease, bought a slide-in camper, bolted it to the back of my truck, and moved in for the summer.
Just the summer, I said.
Yeah—no.
Zorro became more than a truck somewhere between the solar install and a 6 a.m. snow dig-out. She became the embodiment of a dream I’d been circling since I was ten.
That was the year my uncle handed me On the Road—a beat-up copy that smelled like incense and airports. That book, along with Hatchet, Julie of the Wolves, and Call of the Wild, didn’t just inspire me—they shaped who I became.
While other kids were auditioning for school plays or gossiping in gym class, I was planning solo forest treks with a backpack full of granola bars and survival guides.
This wasn’t rebellion. It was a blueprint.
So when Zorro showed up—red, lifted, a little rough around the edges—I knew.
Then came the camper.
A 1989 Palomino found on Marketplace, still filled with old tools and grandpa-style nostalgia from the man who’d owned it before. His name was Whit. I like to think he left it for me.
I moved in on June 1st. Told myself I’d reassess by fall.
One season turned into three years in the mountains of Colorado.
Three years of frozen mornings, DIY upgrades, and breakdowns that cost more than rent. I learned to winterize by trial and (very real) error. And once… let’s just say food poisoning doesn’t wait for you to dig a hole. Mother Nature forgives.
Still, I stayed.
Because when everything you own is with you—and you’re not chained to leases, furniture, or anyone else’s rules—there’s a deep peace in that kind of freedom for me.
This wasn’t “van life” with Instagram-ready spotless scenes of perfection. My camper was a pop-up. I had to crank it up every night just to reach a clean pair of socks. We joked that I literally raised the roof.
The style? Definitely not modern. I called it “old man chic,” and honestly, I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
It was solar panels jerry-rigged with my friend Johnny, a -20°F sleeping bag, and a pup named Nigu who somehow knew not to chew the camper that raised him.
I didn’t mean to build a life that worked. But I did.
And then... I let it go.
Zorro went to Jesse—a guy who saw past the specs and felt the story. He understood what she represented. He became a friend, too. Because that’s how this life works: when you stop performing and start aligning, the right people show up.
Now I’m in a new chapter.
F-250. Bigger camper. A closet, even. (I know—decadent.) And getting here? That’s a story in itself. If you’re curious about the journey that led me to building my own rig, you can read about it in this past newsletter HERE.
Here’s the truth no one talks about:
You will outgrow the things you once chased for years.
Letting go of what you dreamed about isn’t a failure—it’s a sign you’re growing.
- Zorro was a dream come true.
- And also a bridge.
- To the West. To Freedom. To this version of Me.
And here’s where it mirrors business:
For years, I built everything around 1:1 client work—and it worked.
- The impact was real.
- The transformations were deep.
But eventually, that model felt too small for where I was headed. I knew I couldn’t scale without burning out. And more importantly, I didn’t want to keep trading time for money.
So I started building something new.
A sustainable, scalable program designed to help creatives and entrepreneurs build a brand that actually fits.
- Not a copy-paste formula. Not “scale at any cost.”
- But real clarity. Real alignment. Real momentum.
Letting go of what worked made space for what’s next—but it also stung.
Because, as much as it was a step forward, it was also the grief of releasing something I deeply loved. I’m not too proud to admit I shed a few tears writing this. I’ll never forget what carried me here.
So I’ll ask you:
- What’s your “Zorro”?
- What dream, role, or model have you outgrown—but keep holding onto because it’s familiar?
- And what might open up if you finally released it?
If you’re in that messy, meaningful middle—between what was and what’s next—I see you. My next program is being built exactly for that transition.
More on that soon. But for now...
- Keep trusting the process.
- Keep moving toward alignment.
- And don’t let momentum die waiting for perfection.
Here’s to the next dream,
P.S. Wondering what your version of aligned freedom looks like? Get on the waitlist for the Spirit Brand Quiz—it’s the first step to getting clear, staying in motion, and building a business that feels like you.
