2003 Volkswagen EuroVan Westfalia – 107K Miles, Ready for Adventure

Looking for the ultimate classic camper? This 2003 Volkswagen EuroVan Westfalia is a rare find, boasting just 107,000 miles. With its iconic pop-up roof, fully equipped interior, and legendary VW reliability, it’s perfect for road trips, camping adventures, or even as a weekend getaway vehicle. In this video, we’ll give you a detailed look at its features, condition, and why it’s a must-have for VW enthusiasts.

Volkswagen EuroVan Westfalia

Man, this van’s got stories. You look at it and you just know someone’s spilled coffee in it, or maybe cried inside it, or like, cooked eggs at midnight while parked on some cliff. 107,000 miles isn’t bad for 2003, especially for something that’s basically a little apartment pretending to be a car. It’s probably around $38k? Maybe a bit less if the curtains are still that weird faded gray they always are. Not gonna lie, I love that pop-top roof thing, but also, sleeping in one during rain feels like being wrapped in a plastic grocery bag. Kinda cozy, kinda terrifying. Smells like damp fabric and freedom, if that makes sense.

Subaru Outback

You can’t talk campers and not think of an Outback. It’s like the “I want adventure but also heated seats” car. Rugged, dependable, always has that layer of dust no one ever washes off. I drove one once during a road trip, and every gas station cashier asked me if I was camping. $30k now, I think. Inside smells like trail mix, dogs, and pine-scented air fresheners that lost their scent in 2019. Perfect for couples who argue about directions, in a loving way.

Toyota 4Runner

The honest one. It’s like a Labrador loyal, strong, and kind of clumsy. If you buy one for, what, $40k today, it’ll still be around when your kid graduates. Drives like a brick but makes you feel indestructible. I once sat in one on a freezing morning, the seat warmer was broken, and the steering wheel was colder than my motivation. Still loved it. Makes me want to move somewhere mountainous for no reason.

Honda Element

The weirdo. I love this boxy thing. Feels like it was designed by someone whose houseplants all have names. You open the doors and it’s like a giant shoe box full of optimism. Rubber floors, no nonsense. Probably $10k for a beat-up one now. I still remember a friend’s Element that permanently smelled like wet dog and takeout noodles. It shouldn’t have worked, but it totally did.

Mercedes Sprinter

Fancy van energy. People who drive these wear Patagonia jackets and own too many mugs. Expensive… like $70k easy for a nice one. But they’re everywhere. Like suddenly everyone’s a van-life influencer. I rented one once and got a flat. Took an hour to find someone who had the right jack for it. Still kind of loved it though, felt like driving a tiny apartment made by German engineers who actually care about cabinet hinges.

Ford Econoline

The old hillbilly of vans. It’s either a church van or someone’s DIY camper with mismatched shades. Engine sounds rough, like it’s constantly sighing. You can find one dumped somewhere for $8k maybe, or less if duct tape counts as a feature. I love it though. Always smells like gasoline and dust. If vans had accents, this one would have a southern drawl and talk about “back in ‘95.”

Chevy Astro

Ohhh nostalgia alert. My uncle had one, teal paint, middle seat missing for reasons no one explained. Big enough for a fight club or a middle school soccer team. Everything rattled. I think they go for like $12k now if someone halfway restored one. They had those tiny sliding windows that opened just enough to disappoint you. I miss that crappy little thing though, not even sure why.

Toyota Sienna

The mom van. No shame in it. Actually it’s probably the best van for existing as a sane human. Everything works, nothing breaks, doesn’t judge you. Around $35k new, and every single one smells faintly of goldfish crackers. My neighbor has one and swears it’s better than therapy. I kinda believe her. I just can’t see myself in it yet… maybe in ten years.

Volkswagen Vanagon

Before the EuroVan, there was this chaotic legend. Slow, clunky, emotional in weird ways. I saw one once covered in stickers from every national park, engine humming weird like an old record player. The guy driving it offered me coffee from a French press that was just rattling around inside the sink. Maybe twenty-five grand for a good one, forty if it’s restored. They always have that smell, oil and campfire mixed with years of “we’ll fix that later.”