Practical Changes Made Before this Trip
But First A Reference to the Past
For those regular readers of the blog who still remember the article published some weeks ago:
Ralf Klüber
Before your next purchase, spend 12 minutes on the full speech I gave, now available on YouTube.
If you’re curious and you understand German, watch it like a quiet coffee break and see what sticks.
This week …
… is about something less photogenic and more foundational. We love sharing landscapes, backroads, and the moments that make travel feel wide and alive.
Instead of a destination, we are sharing the changes we made to Emil since the last trip, the small upgrades that remove friction from everyday routines and help us travel with a little more peace of mind.
Some trips leave you with a list of places you want to return to. Others leave you with a list of small thoughts that keep tapping your shoulder weeks later. Morocco did that for us.
Not only because of the light, the mountains, the dust, the blue alleys, and the dunes, but because we met other travelers and saw how they lived inside their own rolling homes. Not in a “who has what” way. More in a quiet, practical way, like borrowing good habits from someone who has already made the mistakes you are about to make.
Before traveling to Iberia we focused on something that rarely makes it into a highlight reel. We worked on Emil. Small changes. Small improvements. The kind that do not impress anyone at a campsite, but make the road feel calmer when it is raining, when you are tired, or when something unexpected happens.
Because when you live in a moving home, small annoyances become daily annoyances. And small risks are not abstract. They sit with you until you do something about them.
And we are very aware that even having the chance to refine a home is not “necessary” in the big picture. But within the life we have chosen, it is our way of being responsible, reducing stress, and making sure we can show up with a little more patience for each other and for the day.
Safety and recovery, for the days you hope never come
Some parts of overland travel are about scenery. Some are about being prepared for a flat tire in the rain.
Base plates for the jack and leveling
We rarely use them because we do not need perfect bubble-level living. If we park a little crooked, we can usually just sleep with our heads the other way. Still, it is reassuring to have the option when the ground is soft or uneven. It is one of those items that mostly lives in storage, but earns its place by existing.
Two wooden pickaxe handles as tire helpers
This sounds odd until you have wrestled a very heavy wheel. With these handles, one person can lever the tire onto the axle more safely. One end is round, the other is oval, which keeps it from rolling away at the worst moment. Practical, simple, and unexpectedly brilliant. We saw a version of this idea on another truck and immediately thought: yes. That helps.
A torque wrench, because “tight enough” is not a number
Our wheel nuts need a specific torque: 600 Nm. It is one of those details that feels boring until you realize boring is good in situations where you really want certainty.
More recovery straps, for safer towing scenarios
If you get stuck, help only happens if the helper can stay safe too. That means having your own gear in the right strength class and long enough to create distance and options. We now carry a kinetic rope, loops, and additional straps rated for our weight category for 80+ meter distance. It is not about hero moments. It is about making sure a bad moment does not become worse.
A GPS tracker, for peace of mind
Hopefully it is something we never need. But if Emil ever disappeared, we would at least have a way to locate him. Not dramatic. Just a quiet layer of reassurance that lets you sleep a little deeper.
Compact fire extinguishers in three zones
In Morocco we saw very small, baton-sized extinguishers and liked the idea: quick to grab, quick to use. We now have three, placed where they matter most: cab, garage, and living box. Again, not exciting, but deeply reassuring.
Water and air, for the unglamorous weekly routines
These upgrades are about saving tiny bits of effort that add up over months.
An electric valve for the second wastewater tank
Before, draining meant climbing out, opening a hatch, turning a manual valve, and waiting. Now we can drain both tanks from inside the cab. It is one of those changes that makes you smile every time it rains. Not because it is “cool”, but because it removes one more reason to procrastinate the boring jobs.
External compressed air outlets
Two connections on the outside of the vehicle let us do small cleaning jobs and pump things like bike tires. We also use compressed air as part of our regular truck checks. It is not a headline feature, but it makes maintenance feel less like a chore and more like a habit you can actually keep.
Camp and living comfort, the tiny friction reducers
Comfort, we have learned, is often less about having more, and more about having fewer things sliding around, disappearing, or needing five steps instead of one.
An outdoor grill
A simple way to cook outside when the weather invites it. Sometimes the best part is not the food, but the feeling that the “kitchen” is suddenly bigger because you moved it into fresh air.
A hammock mount under the spare wheel and motorcycle platform
This is my favorite spot. When conditions allow, that hammock becomes a small floating room under Emil. With two airline rails and carabiners, setup is now fast enough that I actually do it more often. A reminder that comfort can be a tiny pocket of ease you create, not something you buy or chase.
A secure holder for the Thermomix
So it does not move during driving. Not glamorous, just safer and quieter. Fewer rattles, fewer things to re-check, fewer moments where your shoulders tense up for no reason.
Sorted spice jars
A small kitchen reset that makes cooking feel less chaotic. The road can be unpredictable. The least we can do is make dinner feel simple.
A dedicated holder for the TV remote
The remote used to slide into the “belly” of the car under the bench seat more than once. Retrieving it was always a minor expedition of its own. Now it has a home. It is a tiny thing, but it removes a tiny daily irritation. And that matters more than people think.
A curtain in the cab
For privacy and temperature control. It makes the space feel calmer, especially at night. Like closing a door you did not know you needed.
Documentation and memory, two photos that can change the mood
We added two new travel photos to our sitting area: one from Chefchaouen, Morocco’s blue city, and one from the sand dunes. They are not trophies. They are anchors.
It is surprising how much a picture can do on a tired day. A wall becomes a memory. A corner becomes a story. The living space feels more like ours, and less like a vehicle that happens to contain us.
And maybe that is the real theme of these changes. Not bigger, better, more. Just easier.
Home is routines, not location
What surprised me is how little these upgrades are about travel, and how much they are about feeling settled. A home, we keep learning, is not a postcode. It is the small rituals that work without drama: reaching for the right tool, doing a boring task without a fight, finding quiet when you close a curtain. You might recognize that in your own life too.
We cannot make travel effortless, and we do not want to pretend it is. But we can make our home on wheels a bit more thoughtful, so that when the world gets loud, Emil feels like a steady, quiet place inside.
Explore. Dream. Discover.