This is not the end.
I know it might have read a little like it was. I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t trying to scare you.
But no—spoilers—this is not the end.
There will be more Alex Kayne stories. I promise.
This is more like the close of a chapter, and the opening of a new one.
And, if I’m being honest with you and with myself, it’s kind of symbolic. There’s some overlap, metaphorically, between Alex Kayne’s life and my own.
For the past two years, Kara and I have been “van lifers.” We’ve traveled and lived full time in a camper van, moving around the US as we explored new places, met new people, and did our work as we went. I wrote at least six books while in that van and gave a solid start to several more. Those will eventually emerge in the world, ready for your reading.
These two years have been amazing. I loved them. During a time when the whole world was locked down in fear, we actually spent our time discovering freedom that few people get to experience in their lives. I’m grateful.
But things end. That is the nature of reality. Bad things, good things, all things. And as good as van life was, it’s a chapter coming to a close for us.
Mostly. I mean—the other rule of life is “Who can really predict anything?”
In February 2022, Kara and I closed on a brand new house in the Texas Hill Country. In fact, a little over a year of our time on the road was spent waiting for this house to be built. There were delays—some of which we suspect were the result of shenanigans on the part of the builder. The value of the property went up significantly from what we’d signed a contract to pay, and I very strongly suspect that the builder wanted us to walk, so they could mine that extra revenue.
But since we lived in a van and could call anywhere home, and most of the places we called home were beautiful and offered us a lot of opportunities… well, we could wait. We didn’t mind. We weren’t uncomfortable by any definition.
And so, eventually the people trying to get us to back out of buying the house realized that we weren’t going anywhere (or that we were going everywhere), and they caved.
It’s amazing how fast the house went from dirt to done once they actually started on it.
So now, here I am. I have an office, once again. I have my desk back. I have my little studio space. And I have a view. It’s spectacular, and everything I hoped it would be.
The whole home, the neighborhood, the nearby hiking trails, the towns and cities in every direction—it’s exactly what we were hoping for, and in a lot of ways more than we were expecting. It’s a good home.
So, we’ve come off the road. But I’ll confess, the road isn’t done with us.
I can already feel the tug—I’m already anticipating traveling again. This time by air, probably. Back to going to author conferences and speaking and writing from hotels and cafés. Something similar to life prior to 2020. But with maybe a few more restrictions. Rules. Provisos.
The sort of thing I’m likely to chafe and rebel against. It’s just who I am.
And that’s why this book, in particular, is likely more symbolic than I had intended it to be.
As we come to a close on this particular chapter of Alex Kayne’s life, and we start to open a whole new one, the parallels are pretty obvious. Kayne may be coming off the road, but the road isn’t done with her.
I can’t rightly predict what’s coming next for Alex Kayne or Eric Symon or Julia Mayher, or for QuIEK itself, for that matter. But whatever it is, there’s sure to be adventure involved.
And the same is true for me.
Today, I paint a wall of my office. In a couple of weeks, someone comes to hang some screens in my windows. I’ll buy and build and install some bookcases from IKEA. And in between all that, I’ll write books and blog posts, and record podcasts and do livestreams. I’ll produce and create work meant to “inform and inspire, educate and entertain,” just as my mission statement dictates.
And, when the urge grows too powerful to resist, I’ll hit the road again.
Only this time, I’ll have a home to return to.
A new chapter. A new era. A new adventure.
I’m happy with all of it.
Thank you for being a part of it.
This is not the end.
Kevin Tumlinson
26 March 2022
Liberty Hill, Texas