What is Lucy?

What is Lucy? 

Stardate 05.04.2026

There are moments when a project stops being a collection of ideas and starts becoming something closer to identity.

This is one of those moments.

For a long time, I thought building something like a van meant choosing cabinets, picking colors, and figuring out where things should go. But the more time I spend thinking about it, watching others build, and imagining my own path forward, the more I realize something different is taking shape.

So I asked myself a simple question:

What is Lucy?

And the answer surprised me in its simplicity.

Lucy is a modular system built on a fixed structural spine.

That’s it. That’s the foundation.

Everything else is detail.

But behind that sentence is a way of thinking that feels different from anything I’ve tried before.

Lucy is not being designed as a traditional camper or a finished interior that gets installed all at once. She is being shaped like a system—something that can be assembled, adjusted, and improved over time.

A structure first. Then living components that attach to it.

A spine that holds everything together.

From there, the rest begins to take form.

There is a fixed sleeping system in mind—a queen bed that anchors the space and sets the rhythm of the interior. Not as something that folds or transforms, but something stable enough to trust. Beneath it, space becomes functional instead of wasted. A place where structure and utility begin to overlap.

At the rear, the idea that first caught my attention still stands out: a pull-out grill system built with strength in mind. Not a lightweight accessory, but a mechanical extension of the van itself. Something that slides out, works hard, and disappears cleanly when not in use.

Above it all, the roof becomes another layer of the system—solar panels collecting energy, quietly supporting everything happening below. And alongside that, a portable extension of that same system exists on the ground when needed, expanding capability without complicating the structure overhead.

What I’m beginning to see is that nothing in Lucy exists in isolation.

Every piece has to connect to something else.

Every module has to serve a purpose beyond itself.

And everything ultimately ties back to that spine.

I’ve been thinking about why this approach feels different. I think it’s because it removes excess. It forces clarity. Instead of asking, “What else can I add?” it asks, “Does this belong on the system?”

That question alone changes everything.

It also reflects something I’m learning in life more broadly—that strength doesn’t always come from adding more. Sometimes it comes from building something solid enough that everything else can be simplified around it.

There’s still a long road ahead before Lucy becomes real. There are measurements to confirm, systems to map, and decisions that will need to be made carefully and in the right order.

But for the first time, I don’t feel like I’m chasing an idea.

I feel like I’m defining one.

“Commit your work to the Lord, and your plans will be established.” — Proverbs 16:3

There’s comfort in that—not in rushing the outcome, but in trusting the process of building something with intention.

If Lucy has a purpose, maybe it’s not just travel or utility or even creativity.

Maybe it’s simply this:

To build something that holds together because it was designed to.

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Captain’s Addendum

Bones: “So let me get this straight, Jim—he’s building a house that moves, and everything has to fit like it was engineered by Vulcans?”

Spock: “Doctor, I believe the correct term is ‘system optimization through structural coherence.’”

Bones: “That’s just a fancy way of saying he doesn’t want anything rattling loose at 70 miles an hour.”

And maybe that’s the quiet truth of it.

In life, as in building, what matters most isn’t how much you add—but whether what you build can hold together when things get rough.

Thank you for walking this road with me.

May you live long and prosper.

Full Circle

Stardate 05.03.2026

This story is for anyone who feels distracted, lost, overlooked, unseen, overwhelmed… or simply worn down by life.

I’m with you.

I’ve always been with you — even during the long stretches when I wasn’t fully present in my own life.

I know what it feels like when disappearing seems easier than participating. When keeping your head above water takes everything you have, and you still feel like you’re sinking.

During the season that included COVID, I tried hard to stay upbeat. I tried to muscle through it. I tried to pretend I was managing better than I was.

But underneath, I was struggling.

So I did something different.

I asked for help.

For the men who came before me, that wasn’t the pattern. Strength meant silence. Endurance meant keeping it to yourself. You handled your business privately and didn’t burden anyone else with it.

I’ve come to believe that way of thinking cost a lot of good people unnecessary pain.

Seeking help did not make me weaker.

It helped me find my way back.

I still have a long way to go. But for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’ve come full circle.

For me, full circle means returning to the kid I once was — the one who lived in a natural state of joy without having to work for it. The kid who laughed easily. The kid who didn’t carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Some of the kids I grew up with are no longer here.

My neighbor Mark S. was one of my closest friends. He had an oversized heart, and he knew from a young age that his life might be shorter than most. Even with that knowledge, he lived with a lightness that I didn’t fully appreciate at the time.

It’s been hard to process all the losses. Some from long ago. Some from COVID. Some from circumstances I still don’t completely understand.

Grief has a way of stacking quietly over the years until one day you realize you’ve been living in a cave without knowing how you got there.

Today, I can say something I couldn’t say for a long time:

I’m coming out of the cave.

I’m thankful for the professional help I’m receiving. I’m thankful for the friends and family who stayed close, even when I wasn’t. I’m thankful that healing doesn’t require perfection — just willingness.

Yes, the world is changing.

Yes, I’m learning how to cope with it.

Yes, I have a long road ahead.

But today, I feel like I’m standing in the sunlight again.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” — Psalm 34:18

If you’re in a cave right now, please hear me: you are not weak for needing help. You are human. And there is a way back to yourself, one small step at a time.

Join me here:
https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong

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Captain’s Addendum

Bones: “You know, Spock, humans have a strange habit of thinking they’re supposed to fix themselves alone.”

Spock: “Indeed, Doctor. Yet the data consistently shows they heal more effectively in the presence of others.”

I’ve learned that strength isn’t found in isolation. It’s found in the courage to let someone walk with you for a while.

Thank you for reading. Thank you for being part of my life.

May you live long and prosper.

Turning My Slush Fund into Miracles at Children's Hospital

Stardate 05.02.2026

My wife and I each keep a small “slush fund.”

Nothing fancy. Nothing official.

Just a little side pocket where tips, affiliate links, dog watching, and other odds and ends find a home. It’s not connected to our regular jobs. It’s our fun money. The kind you don’t feel guilty spending because it came from extra effort and small opportunities.

Over time, my personal slush fund quietly grew.

Not because I was trying to stockpile it. I simply wasn’t paying much attention to it.

Until now.

This week, I emptied the piggy bank.

Every dollar is going toward ordering author copies of all my books through Amazon. Authors get a generous break when ordering copies directly, though the tradeoff is the long wait for delivery. So I’m doing my best to think ahead — ordering early, planning carefully — so that when the books arrive, the proceeds can be maximized for the patients at our local children’s hospital.

It struck me how something that started as “fun money” quietly turned into “miracle money.”

Money that once might have gone toward gadgets, hobbies, or spontaneous purchases is now headed toward hospital rooms, coloring pages, and encouragement for children walking through hard days.

That shift didn’t feel like sacrifice.

It felt like alignment.

“Each of you should give what you have decided in your heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.” — 2 Corinthians 9:7

Years ago, my wife and I were deeply influenced by Dave Ramsey and his encouragement to “live like no one else so later you can live like no one else.” That teaching helped us build discipline, structure, and intentionality with money.

I didn’t learn about slush funds from him. That was a little creative twist I added so we could preserve the integrity of the baby steps while still allowing room for fun and flexibility.

What I didn’t realize at the time was that this little system would one day become a pipeline for generosity.

A quiet reservoir waiting for a meaningful purpose.

If you don’t have your own version of a slush fund, you might consider it. Not as a budgeting tool. Not as a financial strategy.

But as a place where small blessings can collect until the right moment comes along to turn them into something bigger than you expected.

Today, mine is becoming miracles for children I may never meet.

And that feels like the best use of “fun money” I can imagine.

Join me here:
https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong

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🖖 Captain’s Addendum

Spock raised an eyebrow. “Captain, it appears you have converted discretionary currency into humanitarian resources.”

Bones smirked. “Spock, sometimes the best medicine doesn’t come from a pharmacy.”

I’m learning that what seems small, saved quietly over time, can become something deeply meaningful when the moment is right.

May you live long and prosper.

Grateful for the chance to turn little things into big hope.

Irish Triplets Support Caveman Miracle Network

Stardate 05.01.2026

Today begins the first major fundraiser powered by the friends and family who make up the Caveman Miracle Network.

With the third book now published and available, the real work quietly shifts into motion. The writing, the editing, the late nights at the keyboard — those were important. But this is where the purpose steps forward. I’m dedicating the entire month of May to raising funds and awareness for the patients at our local children’s hospitals — the ones who need encouragement, distraction, hope, and love in the middle of hard days.

My boss at my day job generously gave me permission to set up a table in the break room. A simple table. A small space. But I’ve learned that small spaces often become sacred ground when the mission is clear.

Yesterday, my first personal order of 100 coloring books arrived on the doorstep. Holding that box felt different than any shipment before it. These weren’t just books. They were tools. They were invitations. They were quiet messengers of joy waiting to travel into hospital rooms.

Ten of those books were already spoken for.

They were requested by the family of our hometown’s newest professional football player, Kaden Wetjen, who you’ll see featured on the front cover. He was selected in the draft on Sunday, and as far as I know, he may be the first NFL athlete ever featured in a coloring book created specifically for children in hospitals.

That detail made me smile.

Not because of fame. Not because of sports.

But because of what it represents: a hometown kid, a family that cares, and a simple book finding its way into the hands of children who could use a bright moment.

If you feel led to help, you can order a copy of Where in the World is Wilson? through Amazon. If you’d like to bundle books together for donation, talk to me. There are always ways to make generosity travel further.

This coloring book is the third book born on St. Patrick’s Day, just like Live Long and Prosper and The Adventures of Castaway Wilson. I’ve started calling them the Irish triplets.

Three books. One birthday. One purpose.

To raise funds for Children's Miracle Network Hospitals and bring a little light into places that can feel very heavy.

The Caveman Miracle Network — my friends and family — have been walking beside me in this mission since late 2009. Some of them have watched this idea grow from a quiet thought into something that now shows up as boxes on doorsteps and tables in break rooms.

And I’m reminded again that meaningful work rarely starts with grand stages. It starts with willing hearts, simple tables, and people who say, “How can I help?”

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.”— Galatians 6:9

This month is not about selling books.
It’s about placing hope into hands.
One coloring page at a time.

Join me here:
https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong

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🖖 Captain’s Addendum

Spock tilted his head slightly. “Captain, it appears your mission involves distributing illustrated paper to young humans in medical facilities.”

Bones crossed his arms. “Spock, sometimes the smallest things do the most healing.”

I’ve learned that too. What looks like a simple coloring book on the outside can carry encouragement, distraction, and comfort on the inside. And sometimes, that’s exactly what’s needed.

May you live long and prosper.

With gratitude for every hand that helps carry this mission forward.

Joining the Van Building Community Before Buying the Van

Stardate 04.30.2026

For years, I’ve been on the outside looking in.

The dream has been there a long time. The seed was planted back in Kindergarten when my dad pulled the seats out of our family Volkswagen Van and replaced them with a simple bed for camping trips. I didn’t know it then, but something about that transformation stuck with me. A vehicle became a place to rest. A mode of transportation became a small home.

Now, decades later, I’m preparing to build a vacation home on wheels of my own.

There’s just one detail that makes this a little unusual.

I don’t own the van yet.

And that’s no longer stopping me.

I’ve started building the van in modules, beginning with the kitchen. I bought a faucet months ago when it was on sale at my day job. At the time, it felt like a small, practical purchase. Now I see it was the first physical step toward something much larger.

I’ve slowly gathered most of the tools I’ll need. I’m learning how to work with extruded aluminum for the first time. And I have a virtual assistant helping me think through the design so I can avoid mistakes before they happen.

What I realized this week is something that changed the way I see the entire project:

I don’t need the van to begin.

I need the courage to start.

Modules first. Van purchase second. Installation last.

That shift has opened the door for me to do something I’ve wanted to do for years but didn’t feel “qualified” to do yet—join the van building community.

For a long time, I felt like I had to wait until I owned a van before I could really belong in those conversations. Now I see that’s not true. I’m building the skills, learning the process, and taking real steps forward. That’s enough to step into the room.

So I’m going to start doing a little cyber mingling with others who are already living this life. Reading. Learning. Asking questions. Sharing what I’m trying.

If you’re a dreamer like me and feel like you don’t have the skills yet to start something big, you may want to follow along.

I’m not an expert builder. I’m learning as I go. I expect to make mistakes. I expect to redo things. I expect to grow.

And honestly, that’s part of what makes this exciting.

Because this isn’t just about building a van anymore.

It’s about discovering that you don’t have to wait until you feel ready to begin moving toward something you care about.

Sometimes, readiness shows up after you start.

“Commit your work to the Lord, and your plans will be established.” — Proverbs 16:3

I don’t know exactly how this will unfold yet, but I know this: I’m not stopping until the build is complete.

And if these stories inspire even one person to begin taking small steps toward a dream they’ve been postponing, that will feel like a win to me.

Join me here:
https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong

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🖖 Captain’s Addendum

Spock: “Captain, it appears you are constructing a vessel before acquiring the vessel.”
Bones: “I’ve seen stranger things, Spock. At least this one comes with a kitchen sink.”

Sometimes the first step toward a dream is not ownership, but participation. I’m learning that belonging begins the moment you start acting like the person you hope to become.

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Grateful to be learning this one module at a time.

May you live long and prosper.

How Legacy Sneaks Up on a Person

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Stardate 04.29.2026

I’m in the process of building my first module for Lucy.

It became real yesterday when my AI assistant, Alberta, asked me to decide which module should come first. After thinking it through, I chose the kitchen.

The decision wasn’t complicated. I already bought the kitchen faucet months ago at my day job when it was on sale. That small purchase became the starting point for something much larger than I realized at the time.

The kitchen module will be simple—at least that’s the intention. I’m using extruded aluminum as the framework, and I’m learning as I go. If you’ve been following along, this is the first moment where the story shifts from planning to construction. Not theory. Not vision boards. Actual building.

And that matters to me, because this project represents a significant part of what I hope life will look like when I retire in a little over four years.

I’ve been rehearsing this van build for years without fully calling it that. Saving. Learning. Watching. Trying small projects. Figuring out what works and what doesn’t. Slowly collecting both tools and confidence at the same time.

If you’ve read my stories for any length of time, you probably see a pattern in me. I don’t get everything right the first time. I fail, adjust, try again, and keep moving forward until something finally clicks.

And I need to be honest about something:

I’m going to fail often in this project.

But I’ve come to understand that failure is not the interruption of progress—it is part of it. Especially when you’re building something you’ve never built before.

Earlier this week, something clicked into place for me. The idea wasn’t dramatic. It was simple.

Modules.

Small parts of Lucy built before Lucy exists.

That one shift changed everything. Instead of waiting for the van to be complete before the real work begins, I’m now building the pieces ahead of time. That means when Lucy is finally purchased, the assembly process will already be well underway.

It also solves a practical problem I’ve been thinking through—where to store everything as each module is completed. I’ve realized they will need to be kept in an outside storage location so my workspace can stay functional and uncluttered as the build progresses.

That small detail actually makes the entire process feel more realistic.

This is where something deeper started to surface for me.

Legacy sneaks up on a person when they dream big, put an action plan together, and begin living the plan one step at a time.

As I was working through this, my AI assistant pointed out something I hadn’t fully put into words yet: I’m not just building modules for a van. I’m learning a repeatable process for modular van interiors.

That shifted my thinking again.

Because suddenly this isn’t just about Lucy anymore.

It’s about whether this process could help someone else someday—someone who has a dream but doesn’t yet see a clear way to build it. Someone who needs to see that big ideas don’t have to start big. They can start in pieces.

That thought feels important in a way I’m still learning to understand.

Thank you for being part of this journey as it unfolds in real time. I can feel my confidence growing as I step into this build, one module at a time.

It’s exciting to share this part of life with you.

May you live long and prosper.

How to Prepare for Unexpected Detours in Your Life

Stardate 04.28.2026

I’m learning something new about detours when it comes to my goals.

Roadblocks are common. They are rarely invited. And yet, when handled properly, they often lead us to lessons we would have completely missed without the obstacle.

As I reflect on my life, I can see clearly how detours shaped outcomes in ways I never could have planned. Had my path been smooth and uninterrupted—without setbacks, mistakes, and wrong turns—I would be a very different person today. I would not be equipped to handle challenges the way I can now.

What once felt like frustration, I now recognize as preparation.

What once felt like delay, I now understand as development.

The way I view detours has changed because I can see how they have benefited me. I don’t dread them like I used to. In fact, I’ve begun to quietly welcome them, because experience has taught me something important:

A detour often means a new opportunity is waiting just ahead.

Think back to a time in your life when you encountered an unexpected obstacle. How did you respond? Did you search for the lesson? Did that moment shape your future in ways you didn’t realize at the time?

Is it possible that something bigger than you was at work? That perhaps you were being gently redirected because the road you were on wasn’t the one meant for you?

When you begin to see detours as part of a divine redirection rather than an unfortunate interruption, everything changes. Gratitude starts to replace frustration. Curiosity replaces disappointment. Patience replaces panic.

You begin to trust that you are being guided, even when the map no longer makes sense.

This shift in perspective has been a game changer for me.

I still don’t enjoy the surprise of a roadblock. But I no longer fear what it might mean. I know now that detours don’t remove us from our purpose—they often move us closer to it.

“The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps.” — Proverbs 16:9

Join me here:
https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong

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Captain’s Addendum

Spock: “Captain, detours are often the result of incomplete information.”
Bones: “Or life reminding you that you’re not as in control as you thought you were.”

Both are right.

I’ve learned that detours are not evidence of failure. They are evidence that I’m still moving, still learning, still being guided. And sometimes the road I didn’t plan to take ends up being the one I’m most grateful for.

Mission Log complete.

Thank you for walking this road with me today. May your detours lead you exactly where you’re meant to be.