Victoria

This is our Buslife story of how it all began for us...
As a teen I would take road trips to the cape cod 9 hours away by myself to sleep in my car at the beach, or drive to the Adirondack mountains  to hike the peaks and watch the sunsets. I had a wandering soul and my parents never knew. Bus life was always a seed in my mind. 

After having a family, I assumed it would be something I might finally pursue in my retirement years.

I had a large house and land, a nice car, and a successful business. I was doing well by every external measure. But after a divorce, losing my mom, and nearly losing a child, the pandemic hit — and everything I had carefully built suddenly felt hollow.

I felt stifled. Trapped. Like I was living a life that I no longer fit in.

I learned how fragile life really is, so I took a big gamble and bought a retired school bus.

I walked outside the following morning to the blinding yellow monstronsity and the weight of that decision hit me. I had zero plan and no knowledge of how to build a tiny home on wheels. We spent several months building the bus in our driveway, downsizing, and eventually selling our home.

In November 2020, we pulled out of the driveway for the last time and headed south, chasing warmer weather and the unknown.

Building that bus changed me.

On the road, with my kids, I solved breakdowns, In 2023, the road caught up with me.

We had just built a second, larger bus when, while passing through Colorado, we broke down. A winter breakdown in the Colorado mountains — a failing bus barely moving at 10 mph, brutal cold, and mounting repair bills — collided with a failing relationship and a location that no longer felt right.

My spirit broke.

navigation, logistics — all of it. Every problem became proof that I was more capable than I had ever been taught to believe. We didn’t follow an itinerary. We moved day by day, flowing like the seasons. We learned to trust ourselves and our intuition. We said yes to new places, people, and experiences.

To some, it looked like an endless vacation. But in reality, it was a lifestyle built on intention, resilience, and unconventional thinking. We foolishly thought we would see the entire U.S. in a year. We quickly realized how vast and incredible our country is — and that a year would never be enough. One year somehow rolled into year two, then three.

I was tired. Depressed. Stuck.

I did what felt responsible. I got a job at Whole Foods in Summit County while still living in the bus with my kids, moving between mountain towns. The beauty was still there — but the struggle was real.

Eventually, I made the hardest decision of all: I flew my kids back to New York to stay with their dad while I stayed behind to clean up the mess.

When I returned, I continued working, saving for bus repairs, healing, and rebuilding myself piece by piece.

I found community again — coworkers who became close friends, fellow nomads in parking lots, and unexpected support in unexpected places. Ironically, I also found love in the very place where I had fallen apart. Tyler and I met in the Whole Foods parking lot through a mutual friend. He was living nomadically as well and offered to help me fix my heater.

After eight months from the day I rolled into Colorado, we all knew it was time. After five years on the road, we were ready for a new chapter — a stationary life. A chance to slow down and build something new.

Tyler and I chose to see where love might take us, and he sold his truck and camper to move home with me. We settled back into life in rural New York while still living full-time in the bus, searching for land and rebuilding together.

That’s where Phase Two begins — and where Blackbird began.

And now, here we are, sharing what we love with community, both local and afar.

During our travels, we had the privilege of being interviewed for several articles and participating in tours, YouTube videos, and docuseries.
I’ll share that collection here as I gather it. You’ll find those features below.