After a year and a half in the Winnebago, I realize that it's now the place I call home. Not the town I live in, the trailer lot, or even my own little lot. The lot isn't my own and my connection to the town, though solidified in my history as an important one, is a fleeting connection. Upon completion of my degree, I will only likely return to visit remaining friends, a walk around campus, or lunch at a familiar establishment for memories. The Winnebago has become home -- which is nice because home can now be anywhere the wind takes me.
When I look back on how this project got started and how it has continued, I realize that I have done something unique, fun, and have done it all very well. In that, I've turned a recreational vehicle into a full-time living arrangement that actually works. I guess I can't scream victory yet, but after something like 600 days spent in my 26 foot rolling home, I'm actually happier than the day I moved into it.
One reason this life experiment has been so great is that it has social, economic, and personal dimensions that I didn't necessarily anticipate.When I started, I thought I would become a pariah for living in an RV and that people would find a way to look down on me. The entire opposite has been true. Instead, I spent a lot of time dragging myself down as if this was a too strange of a choice to fit in with the rest of society, but my experience has been overwhelmingly positive. The economic potential of the project has been fantastic -- though expensive over a short term, I walked into this with a 3-year plan in mind. That third year was intended to pay off all of my student debt.
The personal dimensions of the project have grown with me over time. Looking back to the beginning, the plan was born from the economic instability of the late '00s and a clear need to change my view of my own financial picture based on the national shakedown that was occurring. One thing I realized was that my Grandparent's generation didn't seem to be in as much trouble as my own generation is projected to be in for. I spent hours, days, and months churning over how to create financial stability out of a system that appeared to be heading toward greater and greater instability.
My answer to the question of how to deal with likely economic hardship in my future was to look back to the past. When I look at the humble beginnings of my Grandparents, I realized that they had it right: Live simply and within your means early in life. While the idea was not directly hatched from this inspiration, it was part of my cultural memory and something I had heard from time to time growing up -- Grandma and Grandpa lived in a tiny trailer with wheels when they were in college and a few years following. They had it right: They lived within their means.
Living within one's means is a very subjective concept today. Loans, mortgages, and easy money make borrowing a very simple and powerful financial tool. But I realized that debt makes my skin itch, it brings down my psyche, and keeps me chained to payments. In today's world, debt is unavoidable for all, but the well-to-do. But I aimed to minimize being tied to such a system as much as I possibly could and I am doing it all through personal interest, familial inspiration, and skills that I have uncontrollably embedded in me from my family.
The system isn't perfect. It isn't even always fun. Sometimes, it could even be dangerous -- many of these systems aren't meant for extreme conditions and year around, continuous use. Given that it has worked great so far, one of the greatest things I've learned is that a home isn't a house -- a home is a space. It's a state of mind. And it is the peace that comes from security, safety, and the creation of memories that will last a lifetime. My house isn't perfect, it's even a little odd. It's an idea born from my parent's parents, but it has led me to realize that you can't buy a home -- you can only buy a house, but it's the way you live and think about the space that makes it a home.
