My goodness, you look beautiful today...
OUR BLOG
The following post is continued from Part I, published in April of 2014 and included here as its own page.
With the construction of my truck-home well under way and completely livable, I busied myself adding the goodies. My little tiny home on four wheels was turning into a mini-mansion.
The world’s tiniest home.
Before continuing with the interior woodwork, I finished the job of removing the two windows between the cab (sealed into the body) and bed (screwed into the camper shell) of the truck. The window on the body of the truck required some basic tools and a lot of elbow grease, tearing away the molding around the outside and prying out the window. Taking care not to get the gunky adhesive everywhere, this was done under a matter of thirty minutes. The camper shell window took just as long, drilling out the screws in the metal molding that held the folding window in place. The final screws were the toughest, requiring a high-powered drill to bore holes into their centers because they had fused into place. Had they unscrewed normally, this would’ve been achieved in half the time.
That little bit of ugliness out of the way, I got down to the fun stuff.
I started with the driver’s side, creating a lip on the second level to ensure small items wouldn’t slide over the edge en route. Next I added one of my favorite touches–what I call my little Tower of Convenience. This includes a functional, removable paper towel roll, a magnet strip for utensils, space for a two-gallon BPA-free water jug, and mounting of a battery-powered fan.
The indomitable Tower of Convenience™, designed and implemented by yours truly.
The Tower of Convenience has worked wonderfully since installed. The main issue is with the paper towel rack–it rattled until I secured the screwed end with camouflage duct tape. Somehow the regular silver tape didn’t do the trick:) Also, the water jug causes more problems than anything else in the truck-home. Jugs like these aren’t the most durable–I’ve already had to replace the one pictured here because it cracked for no apparent reason. Secondly, keeping the jug in place required a bungee cord, or something like it, which stresses the structural integrity of the Tower. Third, removing the jug to refill it (which happens often with regular use) is awkward, resulting in the cracked lip you see in the photo. Not a big deal, but hardly ideal, either. Finally, a jug so close to the window is exposed to heat. Other items, buried far beneath blankets and out of the sunlight, stay cooler longer.
Word to the wise on all the above.
Below my beloved tower is my other favorite touch, the bookcase. This is the detail that keeps me smiling. Living in your vehicle is far from glamorous, so having unique touches such as this adds a feeling of home one might otherwise lose when downsizing so drastically. I trade titles in and out, keeping my favorites on hand for reference–and borrowing. It’s my own Little Free Library.
Hungry for new reading material? Flag me down as I’m rolling through your hood–I’ve got the good stuff.
In the corner, I keep a space for extras. This is where I store leftover food (which keeps cool for all but the hottest days), my battery-powered torch, and other fun stuff. In the back, I’ve installed a Secret Snack Shelf, which was a lot more secret until I typed that.
Across the way is my most ergonomically impressive addition: A folding table that closes into a pantry cabinet. The hinged door opens into a work/eatspace and closed down thanks to mini-magnets and glued Velcro–meaning it stays closed on all but the worst limestone roads. My food and cooking supply cache inside stays put with this netting, purchased from the fabric store. The table “legs” hold infinite weight on the surface when open. And I keep the portable butane stove tied to the top using bungee cords and rope. For aesthetics, I placed these old Navajo placemats to keep me feeling at home. For manliness, I included this very necessary hatchet-hanger.
What more could a man ask for?
In front of the panty/table is a platform, on top of which is my thin mini-fridge. I had high hopes for this at first, but any home-freer knows refrigeration is the most challenging of living amenities. I have yet to conquer it. At first, I imagined running the electric cooler off of a 200-watt solar panel strapped to the roof of the truck, but my perhaps-paranoid brain couldn’t justify leaving such a luxury item out on the city street for any entrepreneurial thief to pillage in my absence. So that hasn’t happened yet. Instead, I’ve run a power extension from the cab of the truck to the rear, using the car battery to run the fridge on road trips. This has worked to my advantage on many-a vacation, keeping cans of amber lager cool for hours until the clock strikes the liver-punishment hour.
Note the stylish leather boot, which I splurged for, and which conceals the extension cord while covering the portal and sort-of-weatherproof rubber boot outside of it. The benefit of living in California is that it rarely rains, otherwise this would be the truck’s most frustrating feature. Leakage has been a problem for me in the past. My most recent application of silicone seems to be sealing the rubber to the body of the truck and shell wonderfully, but we’ll see how long that lasts. Every time I consider moving to the Pacific Northwest, I’m reminded of this potential headache.
For a splash of earned currency, this leather portal boot adds a nice touch to the aspiring truck-home.
Below the fridge are these convenient cubby-hole compartments, good for storing medicine I refuse to ever use and other potentially embarrassing Items I won’t name here. It was originally designed for hand sanitizer and condoms–I may be a sinner, but I keep clean!–but it’s become a catch-all spot for forgotten items instead.
My no-longer-secret underfridge compartment. That red wire is the cigarette lighter extension cord.
Getting to know me well, aren’t you?
The inside of my truck-home cab wouldn’t be nearly as tidy without the addition of my extended cab storage area. This I’ve organized with a multi-use folding compartment. The storage lid opens and folds for convenience from any angle, exposing the inside for easy grabbing of stuff. I conceal the compartment with a matching bedsheet (gotta stay color-coordinated for the ladies!), which maintains a benign appearance, should anyone peer in from the outside. Under the lid is a clothes rack–with limited but useful hanging space–and a shelf for shoes and my personal haircuttery pack. I keep my clothes, laundry, and gym bag here, too. Best of all, the compartment is drilled into the truck itself, designed to support this growing boy as he crawls from back to front, and back!
Benefits of an extended cab.
All in all, the truck serves a useful purpose for my day-to-day needs. Supported by a modest storage unit and gym access, I can live pretty comfortably. On the road and in my daily routine.
Has anyone else tried this with their vehicle? Or are you considering building your own truck-home? If so, please comment below!
Read more about the Pros & Cons of living in this custom-built tiny home!
– TOH
This morning, the Los Angeles Times reported that City Attorney Mike Feuer is introducing a proposal to ban vehicular dwelling in Los Angeles–again.
The revised proposal comes in the wake of last June’s 9th Circuit Court decision striking down LA Municipal Code 85.02, banning vehicular dwelling. The court claimed the ordinance was unconstitutionally vague, leading to inconsistent enforcement of the law. It was the second time in as many years the court ruled against the city’s handling of the growing homeless population. With Feuer’s forthcoming proposal, it seems increasingly possible that history will repeat itself–with the taxpayer footing the bill.
Mr. Feuer’s proposal has yet to be released, but purportedly presents a “tighter wording” of the law that would “pass court muster”. The Times article suggests that sleeping in one’s car will become illegal once again in Los Angeles, with special “non-residential” areas designated solely for the vehicular homeless. With a homeless population around 50,000–thousands of them living in vehicles–this attempt at a solution might seem like a thinly veiled attempt at pushing the homeless out of view, leaving those left behind to be badged, once again, as criminals.
It’s possible areas such as this–below an I-10 overpass–will be designated for vehicular dwellers under City Attorney Feuer’s proposal. Exactly where those areas will be located remains to be seen.
This is nothing new for the modern-day trend of legislating against homelessness in America. Cities across the country are making it illegal to engage in basic human activities–resting, eating, sleeping–spending millions of dollars on law enforcement and in the courts, just to make sure these laws get homeless people out of sight. Yet these laws fail to address the growing problem in our cities: Unaffordable housing and lack of adequately paying jobs.
In June of last year, Mike Feuer promised to “commit ourselves to grappling with the issues that create homelessness in the first place.” Save for a Mayor Garcetti-backed initiative to house the city’s homeless veterans in a controversial West LA Veteran’s Affairs facility, that hasn’t happened. In fact, the city has done precious little to combat the real issues behind the housing crisis in LA, choosing instead to find creative ways to punish those who’ve fallen victim to the neglect.
Affordable housing in LA is scarce. I found that myself, when a studio apartment I started renting for a base $900/month in 2010 went on the market for nearly $1,500 two years later. A recent study by the UCLA Ziman Center for Real Estate says the average apartment in LA requires its renter to make $33/hour. That’s nearly $70,000/year. The per-capita income, meanwhile, is well below half that.
Is criminalizing poverty really the answer?
Studies suggest no. Criminalization not only fails to answer the problems causing homelessness, it creates more issues. A 2014 economic-impact analysis by Creative Housing Solutions, studying the cost of homelessness in Central Florida, found that $149 million over the next decade in reduced law enforcement by housing its chronically homeless and providing case workers. Cities such as Salt Lake City and Albuquerque have had success mitigating their homeless problem in similar ways. So why is Los Angeles still acting so archaically?
The vocal opposition, for one. Agitators like the Venice Stakeholders Association continue to be a thorn in the side of local decision-makers, using their connections to share their opinions on wide-reaching fora and push for policy that protects their lifestyle. Vocal VSA members like Mark Ryavec vocalize their anti-homelessness opinion louder and more efficiently than others, using every opportunity to demonize the homeless in order to transform their eclectic community into an intolerant one.
Or perhaps Mr. Feuer and our city council will follow through with their promise and present some real solutions to combat the roots of homelessness in LA.
Until then, the numbers of vehicular homeless in LA will continue to grow. Regardless of what the law says.
– TOH
People often ask me about my office-living experience. Usually they ask the same questions–where I sleep, where I shower, where I keep my stuff. The reaction is usually a mix or awe and excitement, but rarely one of application to their own lives. This is understandable, as living in one’s office is a fringe lifestyle. And due to the general attitude about what should or shouldn’t be a home, that makes sense.
But what if that attitude is challenged? What if living in one’s office became at least a little more common?
Below I give five reasons why it’s worth considering office living as a choice*, not as a counterculture act but more of a practical solution to a growing economic problem.
1. Affordable Housing is Disappearing
Everyone’s afraid to say it, but the American middle class life is disappearing. Families that were once supported on a single income now struggle with two. Cost of living soars as wages stagnate. Our options are becoming more and more limited for how to live a life we were once told was all but guaranteed. Father History has placed us in a difficult time, not because our struggles are insurmountable, but because they are far from what we grew up expecting. It’s a transition and we need to weather it. I could cite endless studies clarifying the numbers on the effects this is having on communities across America, but this is a hopeful post. So I’ll trust readers are well aware of this and move on.
2. It Keeps Homeless Off the Streets
If you’re unable to pay your mortgage or rent anymore, there’s a decent chance you’ll up on the streets, likely transitioning by living in your vehicle. While this can be an excellent way to boost your finances up to your goal, it’s not always an ideal option. With homeless rates skyrocketing across America, the working homeless among them, the contentious relationship between property owners and vehicular dwellers is at all-time highs. Cities are criminalizing vehicular homelessness (or in the case of LA, those laws are being struck down as unconstitutional) and, in fact, all kinds of homelessness. Even if it is legal, living on the street comes with its potential hazards. Random violence and vandalism is rare, but possible. More likely, “vanimals” and those like them incur major inconveniences like poor weather, disruption of sleep patterns due to noise, even ants infiltrating their sleeping areas (don’t ask). Sleeping in the office doesn’t solve all of these problems, but it sure as heck beats being stuck out in freezing rain. And in doing so, keeps the homeless out of site for those less sensitive residents who seem offended at their existence.
3. Free On-Site Security
Having a responsible employee around overnight greatly decreases the risk of loss at the workplace. Any company with assets in-office can sympathize with the high insurance rates and general stress keeping your business safe. I can say first-hand that being on hand for issues was a benefit, from small issues like a leaky roof to more serious risks like an actual break-in. Yes, I thwarted thieves attempting to steal company property. Yes, I saved the company thousands of dollars. Yes, it was awkward trying to explain to law enforcement and employees what I was doing on the premises at three in the morning. (And yes, you’ll have to wait for my book to hear the full story!**) So I can say with certainty that this is a legitimate security option. In superlative scenarios, replacing a paid security guard in favor of a gratis overnight employee could be an overt arrangement.*** Otherwise, it’s just another perk of having an employee around at odd hours.
4. Increased Productivity
Saving a good chunk of one’s paycheck is great for morale. For someone struggling to pay their pills, the relief of even a single month living without rent can inspire an improved attitude. This benefit was confirmed during my first employee performance review after moving in. My boss sat across from me and told me how it seemed I was happier and my production had gone through the roof. “It’s like something clicked a few months ago.” Yeah, no shit. I’m not stressing about collections. The timeframe she indicated coincided exactly with when I started inflating my air mattress every night beneath my desk. In fact, I even made some improvements to the place while I was there–structural and decorative–which earned me extra praise and made me feel more at home. Had we the award, I’m sure I’d have been nominated for Employee of the Year. It’s a simple corollary: Higher Morale = Improved Performance = Increased Profits.
5. The Office-Living Community is Growing
You or your employee(s) wouldn’t be the first to take up this lifestyle, that’s for sure. Other more- and less-publicized people have made the same choice, sleeping in their offices on full- and part-time schedules, for short and long periods. They are making the choice to convert an underutilized space into something practical. The most compelling of these are the folks running our government (and I use the term “running” loosely), with up to 33 members of the United States House of Representatives living in their offices in Washington, D.C. at any given time. 33! These are people Americans have chosen to represent them to create laws. Tell me that’s not justification enough. In 2012, it was nationally reported that a 19-year-old entrepreneur lived in AOL’s offices for a couple months to prioritize his ambitions over rent. Later his startup had raised hundreds of thousands of dollars to get off the ground. In 2014, new Penn State football coach James Franklin admitted to sleeping in his office as his family searched for housing. And of course there’s me, saving tens of thousands of dollars on rent and, in turn, writing a book, drafting a television pilot, producing a documentary, learning the guitar, and traveling the world thanks to my sacrifices.
Not everyone agrees that living this way is appropriate. And there are understandable arguments to the contrary–and some downright immoral arguments. Whether or not it is right for you depends on your situation.
Critics address the potential cost of having someone take up nightly residence, and in some cases that might be true. For me, I saved the company in areas like lighting and climate control, lowering or turning these things off completely every night. In a small company, that has a noticeably positive impact. My presence had a demonstratively positive impact on the organization’s budget. Others may not have that luxury.
It’s important that the lifestyle not interfere with the primary function of the workplace. Whether this is self- or leadership-regulated, it should be the primary goal of all involved. Foremost, the workplace is just that, so anytime it is needed to perform that function it should be given priority. Late meetings, weekend events, cleaning crew arrivals. These are all priorities over an individual’s comfort. One ought to keep a clean and tidy space and do the same with his or her appearance. Living homeless (or home-free, if your choice is made out of liberty rather than desperation) means fighting against deeply ingrained prejudice about your situation. So keep it respectable. Respect those around you who are choosing and able to live in a more traditional way and you’ll be more likely to receive that same respect. That’s a principle anyone should follow.
This lifestyle is an option for those struggling with a challenging financial situation, it can be a dignified way to change your situation for the better.
Look into it. Maybe it works for you. If so, you could become the next Office Hobo.
-TOH
* I should say that it’s important that the right to live in one’s office should be a choice rather than a compulsion. The Labor Movement of the Progressive Era already handled the issue of company-owned housing, with rising rents and cuts in wages sparking the Pullman Strike of 1894 and many other instances like it.
** Update: I’m currently on the third draft, working hard to get that to you soon. Thanks for your patience:-)
*** A critic once asked me what I’d do if a coworker moved in. While this is an absurd hypothetical, should a future workplace more open to this idea arise, then leadership should consult with interested parties to determine a workable solution. Many factors can be at play here, so I won’t delve into them all. But a solution seems far from impossible for those sensible enough to consider one.
The gray hairs started to creep in first. Little silver whack-a-moles taunting from the under-follicles–only these didn’t budge when you smacked them. The once-occasional bags under my eyes had grown more frequent. I started to forget details, to miss birthdays and show up late for appointments. Friends were beginning to crack jokes, claiming I was growing into my golden years. As if my joints aches and slower hangover-recovery times weren’t evidence enough.
At some point a few months ago, that began to change. Stress evaporated slowly from my life, giving way to creative thought and–dare I say–renewed youthfulness. Some silver hairs are still present–a few are here to stay–but many have started to disappear, giving way one by one to the natural brown stalks sprouting from my scalp and chin. As if the preferred Me is reclaiming territory lost in some battle of yesteryear.
On Tuesday, December 16, 2015, I will commemorate a full two years of living home-free. While not all of this has been a cakewalk, the choice to shirk rent and live on the housing-lamb has brought me a measure of contentment I couldn’t have otherwise achieved.
When I started this journey, I called it an experiment. I wasn’t sure what fate was to come of subleasing my apartment and moving into my office. At that time, I was flat broke and borderline depressed. I had car loans, medical bills, and student debt beyond what my budget could muster, event working a second job. I stopped devoting time to the creative arts and wasn’t sure what my future held. The mere question of “Where do you see yourself in five years?” drove up my stress levels, because I didn’t know the answer. My diary entries, which I maintain here despite my revulsion with both the quality of writing and the preoccupation with what others thought of me, reflect the thoughts of a person searching for meaning.
In the two years that have transpired, I’ve not solved all of these problems. I still have student debt and wonder, sometimes, if my writing ambitions are realistic enough to yield the consistent, stable income I so dearly desire. But I’m far from alone in those imperfections. They seem to be both common obstacles (student debt) and general career doubts (am I doing the right thing with my life?) that many struggle to conquer.
Short of claiming perfection or a winner-take-all conquest of some kind, I would like point out some of the victories this lifestyle has afforded me thus far. After two years, my regular readers might be curious what those might be. The numbers, as I calculated earlier tonight, are pretty staggering. And the minor achievements and rewards along the way are fun, too. While there remains a great deal of work to be done in achieving my goals as a result of the decision to live rent-free, it’s nice to know that two years has resulted in some kind of change. Here are the 3 most important consequences, as I see them:
I’m not sure what’s to come over these next couple years. It’s possible that my lifestyle remains the same, and with it the struggle to match my ambitions with some earnings unchanged. Or perhaps there is change afoot. Regardless, I’m thankful that a risky decision to live unusually for a while has yielded me the potential for improvement. Perhaps that’s what was missing in the first place. Perhaps the depression came from the fear of taking a chance to change the course of my life for the better. Or maybe it was simply that the lowest levels on my hierarchy of needs were going unmet, and I had neither the time nor the energy to spend fulfilling the higher ones. Either way, the gray hairs told part of the tale of why change needed to happen.
If nothing else, I’m just glad the brown ones are taking over again.
-TOH
“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
“Where do you sleep?”
“You know that overpass here?” He gestures behind him generally, his biceps twisting under his skin. He stands close to the door of my truck in his wife-beater, like a customer at a walk-up window. It’s one of the rare unsolicited conversations I’m interested in entertaining. I look to where he’s gesturing, as if I can see anything beyond the massive storage building.
“Under the 405?”
“That’s the one.”
Though not his belongings, this collection of stuff sits just out of reach of an area where A.J. might be happy to bed down for the night.
His name is A.J. and he straddles the thin line between home-free and homeless. He looks like the usual 30-year-old, his fresh buzzcut and brand new Trek bicycle, and that’s the way he likes it. But when he beds down for the night, A.J. does so under the shadow of a highway underpass.
Our conversation tonight started when A.J. rode up to my truck to greet me out of nowhere. As far as I knew, I had never seen him before. But he greeted me with the familiarity of an old friend, asking how I was doing and noting that he had seen me parked here before. A.J. is a bit of a spokesperson for the home-free movement on our storage facility’s campus, taking on the role of local governor for a crowd who mostly prefers to keep to itself. Present company included.
As a young adult living on the street, A.J. has a unique perspective on life’s priorities. He appears to have the skills of a real estate salesman or budding journalist, outgoing and personable. But he doesn’t exercise these traits in a way traditionally expected of him. Yet still A.J. isn’t exactly a modern beatnik, either. He values his appearance, dedicating a good percentage of his monthly budget to storing clean clothes in the latest styles and maintaining a regular schedule of weightlifting supplements. He doesn’t bounce from place to place too often. He keeps a fairly strict routine. He’s a hustler, making ends meet where he can, accepting labor gigs and tutoring schoolkids in arithmetic.
“I taught myself math to make that happen,” he says. His smile reveals his clean but slightly crooked teeth.
A.J. has been homeless since he was 13. He moved out of a broken home to live with his then-girlfriend at a time in his adolescence when, to me, a relationship would have meant three weeks of nightly phone conversations and a note-passing style breakup. Since his teenage years, A.J. has floated from city to city, settling in to each one more every time, trying out Houston and then Denver before settling on Los Angeles. He lives simply, his laptop in his backpack and a sleeping bag sheltering him from the weather. Not that he needs much of that here in sunny Southern California. Or anywhere, for that matter.
“I like to think of it as a test of psychological will,” A.J. says of his urban, open air sleeping arrangement. He shifts his weight as he talks, the subconscious itch of a man working hard to stay in one spot for once. “In Denver I’d wait to see how cold it could get before I gave in. One winter I got down to 17 degrees before I had to call the pastor.”
For now, A.J. is content with his lifestyle. Occasionally he will take an apartment or a car to sleep in, but that never lasts too long. Any urge to live normally is no contest when pitted against his verve for living off the cuff. A.J. talks about life as a series of past experiences rather than a plan for the future. For someone that never been given much of a taste for the American dream, that’s no surprise. In a way, A.J. has done admirably to overcome his circumstances. He has no criminal history, his brushes with law enforcement being rarely more than an officer’s nudge asking him to move. A.J. doesn’t abuse substances, either.
“A lot of guys get involved in drugs,” he says. “I’ve avoided all that. My drug is women.”
During at least half of our twenty minute conversation, the subject is women. A.J. lights up when he discusses his past exploits, his blue eyes searching the sky as he recounts his three month affair with a bi-sexual ex-stripper as if he’s looking for someone to thank up there. He refers to us “good-looking guys” as he talks, referring to it matter-of-factly as an asset to be utilized for survival purposes. While survival for A.J. seems to include the attention of his female lovers-in-waiting, he isn’t shy about talking about exploiting women he normally wouldn’t be attracted to for their money. He even encourages me to find myself a “sugar momma”. As far as he sees it, it’s as easy as going to the bar, popping a Viagra, and showing the ladies a good time.
And the good times don’t seem to be ending any time soon for A.J.
“It’s great,” he’ll tell you. “But the 18-year-olds aren’t saying yes anymore. It’s got to come to an end at some point. I’m not going to kill myself or anything, but something has got to change at some point.”
As we part ways for the evening, I can’t help but laugh at how vanilla, how easy my lifestyle feels in comparison to A.J.’s. I’d head to one of my favorite side streets, happily sleeping in until 9am, not having lost a wink before starting my day, lingering a bit in the privacy of my camper shell as I answered emails or fixing my morning oatmeal. For me, the days were pretty calculated, each hour a concerted effort to build a stronger future through my work. And here was A.J., with barely a care in the world. Yet somehow I felt a closer immediate bond with him than I do with most.
Later that night, I was driving by the underpass where A.J. had mentioned he sleeps. I slowed down, peering through the concrete pylons and beyond a chain-link fence blocking the dirt embankment. I couldn’t see anything. So I turned around, curious to have another look. This time, peeking out from behind one of the pylons was a brown tarp, on top of which was a slumbering body in a sleeping bag. There he is, I chuckled to myself.
Exactly where he wants to be.
– T.O.H.
As I slither through the back gate, I press it gently against its hinges to prevent it from creaking. The effect works and I step into the backyard, quiet as a burglar. Success, I think. Until the flood lights flash on. The entire yard illuminates and the barking begins, a soprano/baritone duet of not-quite-guard dogs.
Shit.
It is my fourth day of live-in dog-sitting and, aside from this little midnight neighborhood-waking, it couldn’t be going more smoothly. My two babies for the week, Sparta and Bailey get along wonderfully. They both love their temporary caretaker, too. As I open the door to the house, I am greeted by a giant, licking ball of fluff and a jumping, frantic terrier. Not only is this week-long gig giving me great canine companionship, I also get a free place for a week and a stipend for ensuring the pets are happy and healthy when the owner returns. Not a bad way to escape the heat when the mercury readings are shooting the afternoon highs over 90 degrees. I enter and promise them a treat. They’ve been good in my two-hour absence.
Since leaving my desert bungalow in August, I’ve managed to avoid most of the summer’s hottest days–and there have been a lot of them. But dog/house-sitting has been just one of my chosen escapes. My friend Kevin “The Cock” Hitchcock visited earlier this month, bouncing around with me to various low-cost accommodations on a kind of local vacation* that gave us a taste of getaway without breaking the bank. A few days later, Ashley and I hit the road earlier than planned to enjoy the moderate climate of Northern California. It was a 9-day road trip that covered 3 states and as many National Parks, with a healthy portion of other national, state, and local lands scattered in for good measure.
This rough version of our itinerary leaves out many way points (Google Maps only allows ten entries) but gives a general idea of our route around and outside of the great state of California.
A trip like this could easily end up costing thousands of dollars. Ashley and I spent a few hundred each. Total.
How?
The biggest savings came in the lodging department. With inconspicuous in-vehicle accommodations, Ashley and I slept each night in the back of the truck. Tracing the below itinerary, we ended up totaling a whopping $20 cumulative for 9-days of sleeping. Thanks to public lands and public streets, we had no problem finding some excellent spots to bed down for the night. Here’s the itinerary in detail:
Saturday: roadside, Dolores Park, Mission District, San Francisco ($0)
Sunday: forest service trailhead, uninhabited trailhead parking lot, King Range National Conservation Area ($0)
Monday: remote roadside, gravel road pullout, Six Rivers National Forest ($0)
Tuesday: free forest service campsite, along river with primitive toilets, Six Rivers National Forest ($0)
Wednesday: enjoyed, so repeated ($0)
Thursday: spontaneous desire to camp along salmon run in Rogue River, traditional campsite, Rogue Elk County Park ($20)
Friday: remote roadside, gravel road pullout near Lava Beds National Monument border, Modoc National Forest ($0)
Saturday: remote roadside, gravel road pullout near Lassen National Park, Lassen National Forest ($0)
Sunday: remote roadside, clearing under pine trees, near Donner Lake State Park ($0)
Not only was our camping plan cheap, it was solitary and beautiful as well. Camping on public lands has often led me to the most incredible sites, soundless and scenic, with the feeling that the stretch of land is truly yours for the night.** As long as a few simple guidelines are followed, camping on public lands such as BLM land and within National Forest boundaries is free. This is called dispersed camping, and there are countless acres of land in this country where it is permitted. We weren’t the only ones enjoying this luxury. Countless others were pulling over in each forest for an in-vehicle night’s rest, too.
These folks are dispersed camping along the main road in the Angeles National Forest, one of the closest forests to a major urban center in this country. Taken in August of 2012.
The California-Oregon border was a bastion of the home-free. Folks everywhere were taking on unorthodox lifestyles. A young couple from an adjoining campsite in Six Rivers National Forest explained that they had been living this way all summer, jumping from park to park, picking up an adorable little puppy named Hollow along the way. They had made friends with a van-dweller in the other occupied campsite, and he would let them borrow his vehicle to head into town for groceries. An act of trust like that is seldom seen in the city.
Not every home-freefolk was living in such rustic conditions. The couple who were hosting our campsite in Rogue Elk State Park were just beginning their journey away from home. The husband had recently retired from the trucking business and they had accepted a gig hosting the campground in exchange for 20 hours of work in the grounds per week. They occupied a spot in the front of the grounds, their RV resting comfortably near the newly chopped firewood. They were even outfitted with a schnazzy golf cart.
“We like it here,” he said. “Everyone pretty much keeps to themselves.”
At the river, the salmon were beginning to spawn. Dozens could be seen in the zero-depth water near the shoreline, swimming in place against the strong downstream current. Ashley and I sat and watched them for a while, in awe of the witnessing of such a renowned migration. Like the hosts of the campground, these chinook had worked hard all their lives just to come to rest here on the Rogue River. It seemed like a fine place to spend a creature’s twilight time.
It is illegal to interfere with the spawning of salmon in the state of Oregon. It’s a completely understandable law, as there are so many one could almost just run out and grab them by hand.
I couldn’t help but wonder how one might be able to achieve his lifestyle of contentment without having to wait decades for classic retirement. I have seen so many people slave away unhappily at jobs just for the hope of one day being able to settle into something comfortable. For those of us who aren’t bankrolled by some circumstance of unusual wealth, I suppose that’s the most attainable route to relaxation. But I can’t help but think some version of the lifestyle of contentment can be achieved earlier. Earning money doing something he loves while keeping enough time for his avenues of leisure and enrichment.
As I type, a little terrier chest rises and falls in a slumbered cadence next to me. Sparta has taken to me so well, she finds it hard to leave my side even as she sleeps. After years of working 60 hour weeks and struggling to keep an apartment, it strikes me odd that what I’m doing now is a job. The service I’m providing is critical to someone, yet for me it’s a fine pastime. Perhaps that’s the lesson from all of this. To enjoy making a living so much, you’re too busy enjoying living to realize you’re making it.
Or maybe I just ought to spend some more time dog-sitting.
-TOH
*No, I will not use “stay-cation” in this piece.
**Courtesy of the taxes I pay, there is truth in that.
There is nothing quite so relaxing as the kind chirp of a nesting sparrow. Or the whistle of a light wind whisking through the trees. Or the rippling topography of the foothills soaking in the pre-dusk sun. This is where the mind can justly wonder.
This month, I’ve taken a short break from the day-to-day in the city in favor of some solitude in the desert. I’ve taken a small cottage in the high desert of Southern California for three weeks while I finish up the last round of edits on my book’s most recent draft. It is an irony that doesn’t fail to escape me–renting a vacation home in order to work on my book about living rent-free. The truth is, I can’t deny my desire for peace, solitude, and reliable air conditioning while I focus on putting together the biggest project I’ve ever undertaken.
In some ways this was planned for. I’d saved up a great deal of money over my first 500 days of home-free living–over $10,000 after paying off old loans–in an effort to put that money towards my future rather than to rent. While I was saving, I wasn’t sure what exactly that would amount to. The down payment on a home? Paying off my last student loans? Making smart investments?
I’ve always wanted to work creatively. Moving to Los Angeles a few years ago, paradoxically, stalled that dream, as I found myself spending more time at work and trying to pay for my living expenses than anything. But living home-free started to change that. Slowly but surely. In the past year, I have started making work for myself again, taking on some film projects and writing for the L.A. Weekly. And now, writing my book.
Taking a place in the desert for a few weeks has given me the freedom to dive right into working on that book. And I was able to do it because I saved up enough money, while I was working full-time, by living frugally. Had I not been living that way, I’d have left my last job needing to immediately find a new one. Now, I have some breathing room. And I’m using that to chase a dream of publishing my first book. Something I am hoping will be an investment in my future.
So as I finish up my time in the desert, I am thankful for the way things have worked out thus far and hopeful I can someday turn this dream into a reality. If so, I hope to share that in a way that will motivate others hopeful to make sacrifices of their own on the way to reaching their ambitions.
As for now, it’s back to my desert workspace for one last weekend of parched-ground paradise productivity. That that is well worth the payment.
– TOH
There have been many reactions to my recent article in the L.A. Weekly, running the gamut from vitriolic to exultant. Because Editor-in-Chief Sarah Fenske agreed to expand this into a feature piece, including a photo spread and twice as much text, this piece has gotten significantly more attention than my October 2013 article in the same publication. Before Thursday’s print release, the online article had over 1,000 Facebook likes/shares and scores of comments and reactions. While my bid to humanize those involved in the home-free “movement” may have debatable consequences, the expanded visibility of the viewpoint has been pleasing.
With that visibility, however, has come some opinions, both on my personal choices and the larger themes of the home-free lifestyle. These opinions have been voiced in comment sections on the online article, on my website, and on Facebook, as well as through personal messages to me. I’d like to give a little time to some of those opinions expressed by the public here, focusing on those posited on both the article’s page and on L.A. Weekly’s lively Facebook page (their post is dated July 29, for those keeping score at home).
A few general thoughts before I dive in. Foremost, I am flattered and impressed with how this article has been received. I take that not as a personal compliment, but rather as a willingness of large sample size of people to hear out a rarely voiced side of a familiar but misunderstood story. Most feedback has been constructive, thoughtful, and productive. For online, public comments fora, the input has been largely civil. Above all, I respect people’s right to opinion–even when it’s wrong;)–as long as it is done in a respectful manner. I’m delighted that we have that here.
That said, there are some serious detractors to the home-free lifestyle out there. I don’t see that as a bad thing. Winston Churchill put it best: “You have enemies? Good. That means you’ve stood up for something, sometime in your life.”
Let’s see what folks had to say:
1) From “tyrannosaur” on Ashley…
I would probably opt for a vehicle with a less-garish, lower-profile exterior. Mind you, the artwork on the fence in the first photo is just as bad, and that won’t drive away. Sooo, you are quietly hoping Ashley will ask you to move in?
First of all, that featured photo L.A. Weekly used in my article is not my truck. I asked for (and they respected) my desire to conceal my identity and the exterior appearance of my truck in order to maintain my anonymity. While I’m grateful for this decision, that photo is a bit misleading. Trust that my vehicle is kept clean and innocuous. Okay, whew!
No, Ashley won’t be asking me to move in:) While she is extremely supportive and we do enjoy each other’s company, neither of our lives are poised for that kind of commitment now. What’s funny is that I’ve written about my ex-girlfriend, Shani, asking me to move in with her in the year leading up to moving into the office, but I declined. Moving in with a lover should be the consequence of romantic imperatives, not financial ones. Fair question though!
2) A few comments regarding relocation…
a. from “biker”
I lived in a 1k apt from hell in LA myself and lived in my car there, I sold my smashed car after some guy ran me off the road and moved a few states over. Cheap rent, you can find work and life’s better. I admire what your doing, but when you leave LA, you’ll find that you don’t have to live in your vehicle and be able to afford rent and find work. I left LA in 08 and have a nice inexpensive place to live since and the same job for 4 years now. Which I could never accomplish living in LA for 15 years. I was always broke, hungry and homeless. I may not be in the city with all its noise, sirens, garbage, traffic, like I came to know living there, I now have quiet, peace of mind, nature. I wish you the best of luck.
b. from “peisley”
If it’s a lifestyle choice as in this author’s case, then you can make other choices than live in your car. Get roommates, live in a room in a house, have a space in exchange for providing caretaking, etc. If you can be industrious with all your faculties intact, then there are alternatives. Too many homeless are mentally ill and need help. Their welfare should be the top priority of any city, state or federal ordinances or laws. I am not a home owner, but I do respect their rights. They are the ones paying taxes to keep the neighborhoods as crime free, attractive and clean as possible. You are not their neighbor just because you park on their street overnight. If the rents are too high, then the city is probably not the one for you. I hate the rise in rents as much as anybody, but when I can no longer afford a reasonably comfortable life here, or find that it’s just not worth the struggle anymore, then I’ll leave.
c. from Gabriel Olguin
People just need to live where they can afford not where they want.
d. from Jay Marcos M
I’m all for it… One shouldn’t have to relocate to undesirable areas because of the bullshit high cost for basic necessities
I’m in entertainment; I can’t sell scripts in Des Moines. Remote exceptions aside, Los Angeles is where I need to be to fulfill my ambitions. Biker, your point about choice is poignant, but doesn’t really apply to my career choices. Should one day I choose a different life for myself, you’re absolutely right.Peisley, you bring up a good point about how we define “neighbor”. Merriam-Webster defines this first as “one living or located near another”. Their second definition is “fellow man”. In these definitions, you are categorically wrong. I doubt you could argue that I am not living, nor could you say I am not located in a given place. Even less could you argue that I am not a fellow man. So what is it that makes me less of a neighbor?
What it sounds like–and this is strongly implied by Gabriel’s corroboration as well–is that you’re placing a different value judgment me versus a homeowner. That’s a dangerous proposition. Is a landowner more of a person than someone living in his vehicle? Is his opinion worth more than mine? I’m on public property. I’m acting respectfully, not breaking any laws. I do pay taxes, on my vehicle, on my income, on my food. And when I one day do own property and a home, I certainly won’t begrudge folks doing the same as I once did, on public property like I once did, because they’re not so fortunate as me to own a permanent structure with a door and some windows.
I agree that the welfare of those who are mentally ill need a whole lot more help than they’re getting now. I would fight passionately alongside you to achieve that. I don’t agree with your suggestions on how I should live. While there’s nothing wrong with folks who make those choices, for my personal preferences as protected by law, I happen to think your suggestions are lesser ways of living than the lifestyle I’m leading at the moment. That we can agree to disagree on. There are plenty of innovators, entertainers, and celebrities who lived without a home for some time. Would you compromise their contribution to our society because you’d have preferred them to live in your preferred way?
3) From Kenny J. Guzmán on… something…
parking tix
Um, yeah. Totes suck.
4) Two comments regarding the nomadic lifestyle…
a. from Mary Montoya Catt…
As long as you are happy there is nothing wrong in being a ‘Nomad”. I personally love camping and if they need fits you can rent a room for a good nights sleep and shower, and travel as you see fit. I admire your lifestyle and wish you well… stay safe out there.
b. from Briana J. Castaneda…
^in my opinion not everyone can handle this lifestyle. So very unlikely everyone would. As for me a nomadic lifestyle is liberating.
This lifestyle is most definitely not for everyone! There were some absurdists questioning if everyone decided to live like this. That’s hilarious. What if I decided to go to school for accounting and work 90 hour weeks during tax season? That’d be perfectly fine. But I wouldn’t be happy. This lifestyle provides me the flexibility I need at this point in my life. If it does for you too, great. If not, that’s great, too. Champion individuality. That’s where innovation is born.
5) Four comments regarding… molestation? Okay…
a. from John Meadows…
No. This doesn’t not (make sense to me). This is an annoying new trend. Filling neighborhoods with vans, RVs and other is wrong. My neighborhood is filling with these because of the parking laws. I cannot tell who the “regular” people are and who the potential “child molesters” are.
b. from Diana Langlume…
Why would u think just because someone is living in their car, van, motor home..that they might be a child molestor? Maybe they just can’t afford the out of control rents and housing prices. A child molestor, a sexual predator can be living INSIDE a home of their own, right in your neighborhood.
c. from Amy Lynn…
Not all child molesters or rapists live in vans and RV’S. Download an app that shows you all the sexual predators in your hood. Educate yourself before you judge. Im considering living in a van myself to save money but mostly because I want mobility and choice. Being stuck in sky high rent in Los Angeles? Forget it. I’ll take a van any day.
d. from Chris Hind…
john I hope they’re all child
molesters with your attitude
This is both hilarious and frightening. Unsightly vehicles effecting your property value is one thing, but child molestation? You obviously don’t know that 90% of children are molested by people they know (source). Not by Chris Farley’s SNL character. Please educate yourself before making broad statements like that. It waters down the productive discussion on this.
6) From Joseph Griffith on who’s really classless…
Parked piece of junk rvs parked in my neighborhood get their tires slashed and fuel syphoned 🙂
I only place this here to remind readers how dangerous ignorance is. Regardless of how you feel about your fellow humans, please treat them with respect. Joseph, for all you know we could be family friends and former business partners. Think about that.
7) A few simply flattering comments…
a. from Mychal Bohart…
I think its smart if you’re single and on your grind. Get a gym membership to shower and workout. Smart!
b. from Sally Miller…
Fantastic article! I would love to meet you in person. I’m totally fascinated and want to hear more!
Momos Cheeskos you have got to read this!
c. from Lisa Marie Mendez…
I love a man with minimalist ideas. Better than the guy caught in the rat race of having the most toys, and the biggest toy chest.
Watch out, ladies, I’m a heartbreaker. But seriously, thank you for expressing your support in this way. Many people never pursue their desires out of fear of lack of acceptance. Keep dispelling those myths!
8) From Jase Mack on efficiency…
Depending on your art, I would suggest living where you can actually afford a studio to develop your art. That way you’re not wasting most of your day on trivial bullshit.
Thank you for addressing this, Jase. As I continue to work through handling the trivial bullshit, I will consider the value of renting a studio. For now, my budget is tight and couldn’t handle such a luxury. That could change. I’m working very hard to change that. If and when it does, I’d take some kind of rented workspace into consideration. Until then, I’ll manage through my library and back-of-truck workspace areas:)
——————
I’ll consider adding to this as the issue continues to get attention. I appreciate everyone expressing their opinions in public. Even if we don’t agree it provides an opportunity to learn from one another. Thank you for taking an interest in this lifestyle and in my work.
–TOH
http://www.laweekly.com/informer/2014/07/29/i-choose-to-live-in-my-car-in-la
I sit cross-legged in the back of my truck, bringing the pot of water on my butane stove to a boil. The rear hatch is open for ventilation, and I hunch over the folding table under the ceiling of my truck, looking out onto the lazy sundown scene of frisbees and fire puts at Dockweiler State Beach. A young couple walks past arm-in-arm, the girl wide eyed as she peeks into my window. “There’s a person in there!” she whispers to her boyfriend. I’m accustomed to the reactions. My concern at the moment is dinner, and in staying true to my $20/day food budget, my day’s final meal is an undergraduatesque bowl of instant ramen.
Dedication has its price, but despite the austerity of my rations the view leaves me content.
Mobile living has its pros and cons. Doing so on a budget limits the excitement of spontaneity, capping the amount of visits to the Whole Foods hot bar or dining out with friends, but moments like this remain a constant in my routine. Wherever I land for the night, I make sure to work in some form of delight. Sweeping vistas, valuable privacy, or just staying off the road after having one too many, keeping my truckhome affords the luxury of bedding down where I please.
Tonight I write from the breezy elevated roadside on the coast of Playa Del Rey. It’s my first time in this spot. After having spent the day watching World Cup quarterfinal action with a friend and touring westside Home Depots in search of a fix for my shorted-out power inverter, it seemed a logical choice. I feel fortunate turning an afternoon of chores into a new treat. It’s one of the perks of my now two months of full-time dwelling in the truck.
But the lifestyle has its downsides, too.
Mobile has been much more challenging than living out of the office. Maintaining secrecy from your coworkers may seem tough, but once the details fall into place maintaining it became routine. And that is exactly what I find is the most difficult part of this lifestyle that I’ve chosen for the time being. During a time in which I’m juggling multiple creative projects, each demanding a lot of my time, I’m finding it hard to maintain a cohesive routine. I have no desk with organize post-it lists, no set schedule to dictate available work times, no direct access to conveniences to aide in productivity.
I am still happy with my choice to live this way. It allows me to live frugally while I create things I always dreamed of creating. (For those not familiar, I’m working on a book, a film, and the development of a television series.) But I do receive questions about the rigors of living this way, so I thought it useful to jot down a list of the five most challenging parts of this lifestyle. From my point of view. Here goes:
That about covers it.
The truth is that I’m still smitten with these cozy nights spent in the comfort of my own truck. The luxuries afforded to me aren’t material, but the benefits–time, freedom, agency–for now outweigh the negatives. But I’m keeping an eye on things. At one point my situation will change and then I will be ready to give up my sunset evenings for a more… predictable situation.
Or will I?
– TOH