“Are you the cat lady?”
A man’s voice sounds from outside my camper shell, directed at me. A moment ago I had just set down my copy of Dharma Bums and peered out from the hanging felt over my rear window, curious to see the world around me after hermitting the afternoon away on my memory foam. I guess he saw me. I reach for the wool blanket to cover my not-so-clothed body.
I’m not accustomed to visitors recognizing that someone might be inside this little mobile cave of mine. Even when I flash my face to peek outside for a moment, people around have long since chosen to ignore me. That’s the point of my vehicle anyway–to fit in. And I do, in that sense. I fit in. Just another anonymous vehicle marking the streetscape.
This time, however, I’d been seen. A rare acknowledgment and an even rarer verbal approach.
“Hey! Are you the cat lady?”
The man outside repeats it, this time closer to the cracked rear shell window along the driver’s side. From beyond the felt window shade, a patchy abstraction of a man stands a few feet away, demanding my response. He is standing in the middle of the street, a seldom traveled side-road flanking an embankment of one of the city’s sensory-sore elevated highways, the hum of weekend commuters breaknecking by behind him. He most definitely had seen me.
Recently I’ve wondered if I should be having more interactions like this. If it wouldn’t serve the car-dwelling, home-free, vanimal movement well for a friendly young voice to invite those curious about the lifestyle to engage in public discourse. Generally, I do my best to make myself more invisible when I’m inhabiting my space, sensitive to the preconceptions others around me might have about my situation. But in doing so, am I just serving to perpetuate those myths? Am I becoming the interaction-unfriendly hermit I am assumed to be? In the increasingly more autumnal temperatures of the past couple weeks, that is becoming seems to be becoming more and more true.
I sit up, reach over, and pull back the felt shade.
Outside stands a Latin American man in his early 30s, dressed in a plain black t-shirt and a baseball cap. He looks at me with anticipation, hoping to get a word in with this elusive queen of the felines. I almost feel bad for letting him down.
“No, man,” I offer in reply.
He backs away, surprised to find a bearded male in the bird lady’s stead.
“But who is this cat lady?” I ask.
He slinks back into frame, addressing me with another glance before politely looking away. Etiquette for these kinds of things isn’t so clearly laid out.
“Oh she just goes around, feeding the alley cats. Nice woman. She’s got a truck just like yours.”
The conversation continues for a brief moment, but I’m not the person he’s looking for. We exchange parting pleasantries and return to our respective lives. The creek of an aging pickup truck’s door suggests he’s gotten back into his driver’s seat, as I lay back down in my twin-sized motorhome and wonder what this man’s version of the events might sound like. For me, it’s a rare friendly interaction that I find welcoming. I make a note to encourage more of them.
I encourage my readers to do the same. Give a little passing greeting to your mobile neighbors, just as you would your neighbors in your apartment complex or on the plot of land next to yours. Their unusual housing situation is nothing more than that. So don’t be afraid to say hello, or even start a conversation.
And if you don’t know how to break the ice?
Just ask if they’re the cat lady.
–TOH
I have a quick question, what happens if your truck needs maintenance? Do you fix it yourself? If you take it to a mechanic, where would you go while it’s being fixed?
Is it practical to sleep in a sedan? Like a Toyota corolla.
Last question: would an employer have an issue with taking a PO box as a home address?
Thanks, you rock!
Ask as many quick questions as you like! I take my truck in for regular maintenance, my next such appointment being Monday. There have been a couple occasions which have required unscheduled maintenance, but fortunately none of those were overnight. If they had been, I suppose I’d plan a highly unusual night at a friend’s house. But thus far I’ve been fortunate selecting a durable, reputable vehicle in the first place, then taking very good care of it.
I’ve seen folks sleeping in sedans and hatchbacks. As I write this, there is a man sleeping in a Jaguar in front of my truck–reclining in his driver’s seat, which I imagine is uncomfortable. That’s a temporary solution, and although he’s been doing that for a few months, as far as I can tell, I can’t imagine doing so myself. The privacy and comfort of my camper shell is incredible.
I have actually just accepted new employment and offered both a (very outdated) street address and a PO Box for my information. I think this is common enough, presenting a PO Box as an address, since it IS A VALID CALIFORNIA DRIVER’S LICENSE ADDRESS (which I can officially confirm now, thank you very much…). Yes, your employer should see your first address as a street address to most easily avoid questions. But when it comes to the depth of forms, put your PO in there and have at it.
Great questions! Anyone have any more???