I was supposed to setup shop in the middle of the desert and laser-cut parts for the US Government. I cut the rest of the world off in exchange. I stuck to the plan and I did everything I was supposed to. I prevented myself from forming any new bonds back at home because I was dead-set and focused. I only formed bonds with people that I could use to watch my dog and protect my home while I puddle-jumped from East to West and back. I made a multitude of promises to people involved based on only one promise that was made to me. Every time I prepared to lock in, they would push back with delays.

I have flown on 105 AIRPLANES directly related to this project between October of 2024 and January 2026

Hurry up. Wait. Pivot. Revise. Pause. Make A Choice. Rinse. Repeat. I feel like I am in the exact place that I was in October 2024. I have been using that time to form bonds with others and just in time to leave. I have ignored virtually all of my family since October 2024. I felt obligated to engage once my goals were met, I felt like I didn’t want to face anyone in my family until I could prove that I could do it. It’s my job to take care of all of them and until I succeed I am a failure, I am a leper, I am inadequate. Every push-back from the Government made me feel like a loser, like I was all talk and nothing more.

See you in like three years, or not? – maybe this is some kind of strange test.

OR

If you want to visit, just book a flight to Vegas or Los Angeles, snag a rental and drive three hours. OR you can get on two different planes to fly into Palm Springs, but you still need a rental car because it’s an hour away. What that translates to is that I will probably not see you again for a while, maybe or not ever again. The feeling of not knowing has been circulating through my guts since this project began. When do I start? When do I leave? When do I post my blog? That time is now.

I got close to as many people as I could because at some point it’s supposed to be “go-time”. We have internal battles to fight throughout our lives and for me it feels like it’s time for war. The uncertainty of “what is to come” has been wrecking me emotionally – do I stick to the plan or invest in myself? Who wants to be a part of this act of imbalance? Over time I see people lose momentum and doubt me and that’s okay. Me too.

I have now trained myself to understand that my van is my home and my safe space. Thank god I have my dog and my van. If we need to, we can fly and leave it here. My van is my living room, bedroom and my ticket home if needed. My dog is now so properly trained for the mission he can fly on commercial aircraft. I am so proud of my boy. If it doesn’t fit in the van comfortably, it stays in Virginia.

The crew at the shop is incredible, every single person on the team has really stepped up. It was my biggest fear to leave the shop and the crew, but at this point they don’t really need me anymore.

Wish me luck. (I need it)

The post Time to leave Wed Feb 11th Mr. Aaron Reinhard appeared first on Aaron and Smell.

It all started when this chick swam up on me like “hey wanna see a manatee? it’s right over here!!!”

Her name was Sofia and later she just rolled up on Smelly and I with her handpan and was like “hey you should use this for your manatee movie!” – The completely sporadic, lovely and talented Sofia happened to cross paths with me, along with many animals in the park including Mr. Smells himself. He loves walking in the park.. especially since he found hot dogs left-over by campers. So now the entire park is a constant hot-dog hunt.

The camping is only $24 with my discount, so Smelly and I live here in the off-season anytime we can. Its nice to be able to leave the shop on any given day and cruise over to an absolute paradise I plan to call home. We save money on hotels by staying the van and or staying at the park. About every five days or so I will get Mr. Smelly a room so he can have that extra sploot room across any king sized bed. We love to eat out and typically you can find us at anyone of these fantastic Florida restauraunts.

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Calgary was a blast. My perception was completely wrong.

86Love & The Kids – Live @ The Commonwealth Bar & Stage – Calgary, Canada January 6th, 8PM – Filmed on some GoPro’s – As a US Citizen that had never been to Canada, it was certainly a surprise. I absolutely loved Calgary and I really enjoyed my time meeting new people and eating the food. Checkout my blog for more details on my journey throughout the rest of my life.

I stayed at the Marriott Residence Inn 610 10 Ave. Sw., Calgary, AB, T2R 1M3, Canada which was just a block away from the Commonwealth Bar & Stage also on 10th Avenue. The club itself is quite nice offering a spacious amount of room and multiple floors. Between a rap show and an EDM show, everyone was having a good time. I really like Calgary, I feel safe there. Canadians are extremely polite and the diverse mix of culture offers a very wide culinary menu as well as an unlimited amount of things to do.

I frequented the Drip N’ Dip Dessert Cafe – Which served up amazing coffee and I met Nasha who could stare directly through my pupils and tickle the part that connects my spine and my skull. She could maintain a level of intensity that left me stuttering to place an order, probably Ukrainian.

Every video will have a link and a description that also leads to the blog post that I create on my website going forward. Marriot Calgary Downtown Bathroom Code – 6688

What really sets Calgary apart is how wonderful all the small businesses are. Most corporations are outside of the city leaving you to many options vs the same 12 flavors in the United States. There were times when I could “blend in” and there were many times when I obviously didn’t understand something because I was a goofy American trying to make friends and problem solve.

In Canada no one takes CashApp or Venmo – they barely know what it is. People in Canada still use cash. They currently love USD due to the exchange rate. If you travel abroad make sure to call your bank in advance. Otherwise you end up like me stuck with a bar-tab you can’t pay, in an airport than you have to sleep in until your tiny little US bank will pickup the phone. But my first night was free, in the airport.

Smelly needed to take some time off as we had just spent 10 days in the van. He was happy to be home with Duke and Marissa Anytime I pack up a laptop or grab a handful of clothes, Smell is ready to report for duty and haul ass into the van.

WE ARE LEAVING IN THE VAN TO FLEE THE HORRIBLE SNOW

I start filming editing and posting daily pretty much right now. I had to hire people to keep this rolling. This is going to be a wild journey. I need to do a great job at not using profanity on my website. Bad words are bad, mmkay? My goal is to link businesses and entities together on a platform that differs from traditional doom scrolling techniques and adds. That is how all social media is operating now and I want to be different. I want to build bonds through links with cool businesses that support each other inside of a local realm. Does that make sense? It will if I end up writing about your area.

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Aaron what do you need to do currently?

Aaron you must dial yourself in, pull yourself as far back as you can and let go. propel yourself across the country and tie everything together. You are so close but you can’t waste time now – time is finite. You are so close, but you need to sprint into 2026.

Use it as fuel, and thrive.

Over-Activity – The late-night over-thinker, anxiety can be traveled, transported and transformed into rocket fuel to feed the Laser-train. If I poach properly the results tilt in my favor if they can keep that hat on. My job is to distribute hats. Try one on.

#StayDisposable

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I am not typically the type to talk about my feelings in person. This has certainly helped me, thanks Emma & Penny. You literally texted this to me yesterday.

All the leaves have fallen on the ground and most green things will die except for the pines. I wish I could explain how bad this hurts me with words but it would be a waste of time. I have learned to follow my guts and change my latitude accordingly, it seems to do the trick.

The solution is to migrate based on the issues at hand. Winter absolutely sucks so I need to stay warm so I can continue to grow this empire. I wanted to create as many jobs and help as many people as I possibly could this Summer. I enjoy spreading the tentacles of my empire into areas that are not as well-off as cities like Richmond, VA. I love all of you so much and I am really excited to move onto the next chapter of my life. I tried to form as many bonds and connections as I could, in that same regard I lost some though I think my heart is always open to all.

LETS TALK ABOUT WHEN my phone died in Fresno, I just kept walking through miles of farmland until I found a dude that let me charge my phone in his truck. He then gave me a ride to the airport and now we are friends. He now handles my gigs that require multiple tractor trailers.

LETS TALK ABOUT WHEN when my van broke down and because of that I met Michael Sparks, Robert and Sam. I would not have found my future shop in Sanford. I would not be swimming with manatees when I get off of work. I continue to weave a web of people together in order to grow this machine.

I guess what I am trying to say is that things that hurt are sometimes good for you.

Im not going to treat my depression just like a cold, Im going to run from it. Im going to create content along the way while simultaneously building my empire.

SAM AND SMELL ARE BEST FRIENDS BECAUSE MY VAN BROKE DOWN.

Shitty things can make good things.

“Im so glad your dad’s POS van broke down.” – Sam

“it’s not just a van, it’s a T1N and it is home.” – Smell

“Do you wanna go run around in that drainage ditch again?’ – Sam

“First one there gets first piss!” – Smell

The post It’s Time To Migrate – It’s Time To Expand appeared first on Aaron and Smell.

IT WOULDN’T MAKE SENSE – Besides – you’re already home. You live on wheels now. They go round and round. Stop being a little bitch and get yourself some Waffle House.

It Doesn’t Matter Where, South Carolina

It’s usually the last exit before unconsciousness for me. It’s about twenty minutes before wrapping my van around a big ass pine-tree. Theres a Motel 6 right off I95 wherever I keep ending up in South Carolina. Whether I am traveling North or South – there it is. The same town. Or are they different?

It’s always around 3 or 4 am – I can remember some of the same faces, but nothing more than that. I swear people have told me the name of this place ten times and still don’t know it. Best to keep it that way, wouldn’t want all the tourists showing up crowding the place after they read my blog. I take a left.

WAFFLE HOUSE – 178 Locations in South Carolina & Growing

Just down the road is a Waffle House and when times are tough – it’s time for a steak sandwich. It usually gives me enough juice to find a spot and shut down. Smell gets his treat and I shut the rear van doors as I am staggering towards the smell of greatness. There are three people working and two of us at the high-top. How is this place open? How is this place open?

4 a.m. is that point in time where I know that I should go to bed, but I am riding a wave if numbness you can’t get with prescription drugs. You can stave it off with black coffee or induce that sensational feeling by eating something sweet and gravitating towards a flat slumber on a giant soft bed. 4 a.m. is my time to shine – sometimes but not often.

The waitress takes my order, I think? At this hour I don’t know if she remembers. Her name is Anne. She listens to a lot of pod casts and we trade some names of comedians that we both like. She was born here, she lives here. You don’t ask why or how – you just roll with it. I can’t imagine the feeling of getting up each night to clock into a Waffle House just before the bars close. She wants to do comedy and be a comedian but with two jobs it’s tough just practicing her bits.

She’s dragging-ass to this place each day to make enough bucks for the next. Anne if you are reading this blog, I know that you can do it

Unconscious, South Carolina – or slightly conscious.

South Carolina is a place to raise a child on your own while working in a plastics factory because you were born there. It doesn’t matter where you are, you can feel the difference. Something about the way people carry themselves in these parts. They’re still living in the 90’s and Y2K hasn’t quite hit yet.

In South Carolina, caassette tapes and DVD’s still hold value. People may have let go, but they haven’t given up. It has that extra splash of “I let go of the idea of leaving five years ago”. It’s a doom & gloom feeling that I don’t get in some other states. It’s not your fault if you were born here – but they need you to keep the town open while you are alive. Keeping the town open is crucial, especially at a moment in time like this.

I had already filled up on diesel, purchased coffee and was waiting on a greasy hot stake sandwich. I was high on the hog. Smell didn’t know it but he was lined up for a king-sized bed at the Motel 6 so he can sploot diagonally. ($67 per night w/ tax).

South Carolina got $300 of my dollars. But Anne got 1/3 of it

She can use that towards rent or possibly a plane-ticket to get the fuck out. Do it now Anne!!! Do it while you are still respectively hot… especially if there is some hope left inside of you to venture outward and beyond. If there is in fact a spark left inside of you, get the fuck out.

FYI – Her name is not really Anne, but “Anne”, if you’re reading this because you kept my card, then thank you!

– Aaron, You got a lot done shut the fuck up and go to bed.

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OPEN THE VAN DOOR AND CLOSE IT IMMEDIATELY.

DON’T PUT YOUR GUARD DOWN. THERE ARE NOW 30 MOSQUITOS IN YOUR VAN.

YOU CAN KILL THEM OR THEY WILL BLOOD-FUCK YOU.

DON’T COME HERE. THE TOURISTS ARE ENOUGH. JUST LET ME BE THE GUY THAT LIVES HERE.

• This gives me the ability to enjoy this entire campground by myself without fear of harrassment from others. So please stay the fuck home and don’t ever come here because it’s all mine.

• It protects YOU from being tagged by a relentless abundance of mosquitos. The droning sound outhside? Must be a highway off in the near distance? No that is the sound of a demon horde of mosquitos on the way to penetrate you and suck your blood.

Why do I feel so “at home?” There are few people here (almost none), and Smell and I are used to that being in Bumpass, Virginia. The different campsites are simple yet visually secluded as the relenting Florida overgrowth always seems to push out / fight back – as if to say… Get The Fuck Out Of Here, This is my campground. The prickly-looking plants and “poke-your-eye-out” vegetation lowers my stress levels. It might be just knowing that these jurassic-looking plants and trees are here to stay all year round – and not just wither away and die only to come back and do it again.

Typically in Virginia, everything withers and dies twice a year – once in the fall, and once when it’s tax time. Not here in Sunny Florida. Florida is the land of No State Income Tax. This is the place to snag a trailer on some land, a Florida stateID and exercise the right to fuck off.

FLORIDA: COME TO PLAY (OR BE PLAYED)

There isn’t much going on at any campsite.. a concrete pad to park on, a picnic table and a firepit. That’s what $24 per night gets you – it includes water, electricity and bathhouses. This is my dream come true until I get my life together. I will be a guy that lives in State parks in the State of Florida in a state of semi-consciousness.

Smell and I always hit the bathhouse between 11 pm – 5 am to avoid any potential Bobs, Steves or Deborahs. After our late-night walk to the bath-house and a few laps around the campground, I’m going to cruise down to the Springs, put on some snorkeling gear, and take a dive with some manatees. Smelly gets a Kong toy full of peanut butter, some AC and a bit of alone time.

By now the tourists have begun to show up and will keep this campground virtually full throughout the “Florida Winter.” I will continue to migrate whichever directions pulls at the me the most… typically hovering towards the warmth to avoid any possibility of coming toe-to-toe with cold winter depression.

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I remember thinking… “FUCK THIS! I DON’T CARE IF MY BATTERY’S DEAD,” as I am being dumped out of a Black Hyundai Sedan off to the side of some desolate stretch of farmland in rural Fresno, CA.

“I’m gonna talk to the man, do the thing and be on my way. I’m here to see the client, shake hands and leave,” I say out loud as I wiped a bead of sweat off my face.

My leather dress shoes felt great – supportive. And I was sober enough after my Red Eye flight to meet a client and to look half competent.

Wearing long pants and a button up didn’t feel right, but it looked right. And this world demands sex-appeal. 

Did I feel sexy? Hell no. I was already two flights in, with 10 hours of travel time … all for 5 minutes of chit-chat with an engineer.

However, the last thing I was going to do is ask a customer if he has a power plug to charge my phone, much less hang out more than I have to. Way to show weakness.

ACT CASUAL, DAMMIT…

I knew I should have charged everything up, and it was about to bite me in the ass – but I wasn’t going to let that happen so soon. Time for licking my own ass wound later. For now, I ease into the fuckery by the default

For the client? I was not going to look like a fool at any cost. Even if I became more of one when I walked back out the door. I won’t look like one at first glance. Always look confident – even in the eyes of death.

“So you came all the way out here just for this?” he asked. I muttered something about the remote California outpost of 29 Palms being just five hours away, and basically local. 

Firm handshake and an agreement was quickly made – I was on my way out. 

My uber ride was 3.5 miles away, and I still had a snippet of battery left. But… I could already feel a rocky situation.

The sun was hot and I was standing in front of an encampment of sun-battered mobile office trailers, each no doubt lined with identical cheap wood paneling and desks occupied by company men – so many middle-aged middle managers. 

I did not give a fuck – I was walking in the direction of home – OR HOPEFULLY, AT LEAST, MY UBER DRIVER.

Was it a Red Nissan or a Black Tesla? I couldn’t remember – but it didn’t matter because the car never showed.

There was not a car in sight. Can’t go back now – forward was the only way home.

I squinted into the distance and saw what looked like a busy intersection of a very long and drawn out two lane road bleached by sun.

Two feet and a heartbeat lets go

I knew I had a flight out of Fresno @ 6 – What time was it? 4:00? 5:15? Was I stuck in Fresno?

I WAS NOT GOING TO BE STUCK IN FRESNO as I picked up the pace the sun was beating a load of UV into my face like a slap.

On both sides of me are long acres and acres of orange and apple orchards. Not a corporate establishment insight

Farmland and homesteads scattered every few blocks – LONG BLOCKS. No sign of human kindness. Only fences and growling farm dogs at every entrance. 

This is the farming capital of California but also the hometown of Charles Manson and Robert Downey Syndrome

That insersection was hard to see – it wasn’t really getting any closer – it made sense to stick out my thumb for each passing truck and car (just in casey-case).

At this point I was getting on that fucking plane and I didn’t care how. I was gonna go the fuck home as planned. Like a good asshat.

That intersection was getting closer with each block and as I approached…it appeared to be an auction/fairgrounds area of some type – empty parking lots and tents… shucks. No relief in sight.

No stores, no gas stations. I needed power fast in order to call an Uber to make my plane. I kept sinking back to that thought.

At this point it had to be an hour since I had left my clients train-yard. Or was it two? Was I stuck until tomorrow? Please god, no.

Eventually I came to a a small group of cars and trucks on the right hand side of some orchards.. a black ford pickup sat on some silly rims.

A man in dark-tan cover-alls with his hands in his pockets trying to figure out what the hell I am / why I am walking in the middle of nowhere? He gave a vibe like he’d just got off of a tractor (which he, in fact, had).

As he stood next to his pickup truck, I approached and asked if I could charge my phone.

I mumbled something about needing it to call an Uber to make my flight, and needing to get there ASAP.

As he’s sizing me up -(dress shirt, khaki pants and leather dress shoes) I can tell he’s thinking:

1) Where TF did you come from?

2) Who could you even know out here?

3) Who left an unlikely fool you out here to bake?

But with gusto, he just jumped right in front of my sunbaked insanity with an offer. “I got nothing to do, I can match whatever Uber is paying – I’m okay with whatever.”

“Oh hell yeah – that’s exactly what I need right now,” I replied without a thought. A firm handshake later and we are on the way barreling down a farm road. He loads a dab rig while steering with his knee.

On our way out, he pulls into the farm on the right and asks, “have you ever had a persimmon?”

He hauls the wheel to the right and immediately pulls up to a big tree and yanks a few down through the window.

This was the relief I needed today – not only am I charging – I am on the way to the airpot w/ fresh persimmon juice all over my face.

He’s loading up another dab rig while doing 90 – I still had 30 minutes to get there, but I didn’t mind that much…

He tells me about his business doing demo work and having to hide the fact that he still works on the farms, because people will lowball you when they find out you take farm wages

He tells me about his life, his struggles with business, inheriting a bunch of money and blowing it. Nice guy. This dude was another mover and shaker – hand picked by yours truly.

What can I say? I’m blessed by something that carries me along the way when I stumble.

Magical travels that can’t necessarily be explained – but happen and should be noted.

Always moving.

Don’t ever let them derail you.

We reach the Airport.

I open my door and hop out to adjust the straps on my backpack… 

“Oh, by the way – what’s your name?” I ask.  “Joey,” he said as he smirked realizing we didn’t even know each other’s names. 

“Joey… nice to meet you – thank you for the ride – my name is Aaron.”

“Yeah man, I’m always looking for stuff to do, anyway. to make a buck,” he says. “Well that’s great Joey, because we need to move a shitload of train-track South down to 29 Palms. They’re 20 ft. pcs – can you haul that?”

“Yes I have a 30’ trailer – what is this for? Are you stealing it?”

“No, Joey we’re just selling it back to the owner in smaller pieces.”

A nod.

“I’ll be back in a few weeks- I don’t wanna miss my flight, see you soon, Joey.”

And there we have it ladies and gentleman. 

I had enough time to grab a charger and haul ass.

Total distance on foot, 2.5 miles. Total distance traveled with Joey, light years.

Three Flights, Two Feet & a Heartbeat…

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