Four Weeks, Seven Thousand Chances, and the Return of the Builder
Three weeks ago, an email landed in my inbox. A hackathon. I almost laughed. I hadn't joined one since university (more than twenty years ago) and I never missed them. The sleep deprivation, the smell nerds (like me) not showering, the performative enthusiasm fueled by bad pizza and worse coffee… no thanks. That chapter felt closed. But this one was different. Four weeks. No 48-hour madness. No badge of honor for staying awake until hallucinations set in. Just a long runway and the freedom to pace myself. That meant I could keep my day job, then disappear into the build during evenings and -crucially- weekends. And as luck would have it, I had three weekends entirely to myself. No plans. No obligations. Just time. One of the hackathon tracks caught my attention: an app for people living the nomad van life. A life I once tasted. A life that still whispers to me, even if I haven't answered the call again. So I entered. Solo. What followed was intense, in a quiet, del...