It's a movement

I was recently alerted to two pretty high-profile "van-dwellers" in the news and in pop culture. The first is a guy doing exactly what I am doing, but in a slightly more extreme way. He was a graduate student who chose to live in a Ford Econoline during his Master's degree at Duke University to avoid debt. The second is the writer of the book that led to the movie, "Warm Bodies." It was a pretty high profile movie, and even after the cash influx, the author still chooses to live in his remodeled RV.

The first article was published in the New York Times -- not exactly a no-name-blog on the interwebs. That's a pretty high profile source and article for a simple grad student who chose to live in a van for a couple years. The likely reason for the publication is the book that the van-dweller wrote about living in his van to avoid debt.

Interestingly, it appears that this may be the pinnacle of a phenomenon. Relating these fellows to myself, we have a whole spectrum of van-dwelling, debt and rent dodgers. At the extreme end, the grad student living in the Ford Econoline did his experiment without utilities and in a vehicle that he couldn't even stand up in. In the middle, the author of the Warm Bodies book, in a small, older RV that has been remodeled. At the luxury end, there's me: The guy living in a small Class-A Winnebago in a high-plains town, year around.

What is this cultural moment that is bringing these individuals to light? Why is it now New York Times-grade news to live in a van year around to avoid debt? It appears that we have a social, economic, and political mix that is leading young people to deny and combat debt in unique and extreme ways. It was only the early 1990's when Chris Farley was warning against the dangers of "living in a van, down by the river," yet here we are, 20 years later, and it is written in mainstream news in such a way that highlights it as the pinnacle of responsibility.

It is articles, such as these, that make me wonder if I should be focusing my studies on this phenomenon, rather than the plain ole' changing West:

New York Times: Ken Ilgunas Lives in a Van While a Graduate Student at Duke University
http://www.nytimes.com/2013/04/14/education/edlife/ken-ilgunas-lives-in-a-van-while-a-graduate-student-at-duke-university.html?pagewanted=1&_r=3&smid=fb-share&

The Daily: Isaac Marion channels his religious past into ‘Warm Bodies,’ a novel about zombies — and love
http://www.thedaily.com/page/2011/08/14/081411-arts-isaac-marion-1-4/ 

Too bad Ken Ilgunas beat me to the book, too...

The day I drove my house to school

Not too many people can say, "I drove my house to school." I can. Because I just did it. To get the 'bago away from the rough around the storage unit, I drove it to the big, empty, free parking lot used for sporting events. I did it because I needed a place to park.

While this won't be my location for long, it will make for a good day parking spot. Luckily my fridge runs on electricity OR propane, so my fridge works away while I'm not plugged in. It seems like a decent system for now.

This whole scene is made all the nuttier by the fact that my cats like to sit in the windshield. Let's pile this up into one sentence: I drove my house to school today because I'm no longer paying rent, so I parked in the athletic events lot with my toilet-trained cats sitting on the dash.

Even though I'm questioning my own sanity, there is value in what I'm doing. I'm trying to find a way of living that doesn't require chains. Sure, I'm chained to vehicle registrations, auto parts, and gas, but I am doing some 'life science' to see what is more costly and more beneficial. So far, I'm finding the logistics intensive, but I'm also trying something that very few have. I'm also trying to do it all well, so I don't just look like a run of the mill nutcase. There is merit in trying to pave a new path if it opens new doors.

The insanity continues...

Panic sets in.

I am out of my RV space as of tomorrow. I have the RV all packed up, some gas in the tank, and have it free from its shackles. But it's not that easy. What's next is terrifying and logistically intensive. For the first time, I think I may have pushed the limits a little too far.

I suppose part of my worry about this situation stems from the fact that I am also in finals right now. I am also maxed out on energy and number of minutes in a day.

I have places I can take the RV to park it -- friends houses or even public land, but there's still snow on the ground here. Nights are still getting down in the low 30's. Without electricity, other than what my generator can provide (using gasoline), I'm basically in a really large, heavy tent.

While I think I would be fine with this in the Summer, I still have obligations at school, so the uncertainty this introduces into my daily routines is really difficult to work with.

I have no problem living minimally for a while, but this is becoming a major lesson in truly appreciating the infrastructure that makes our lives easier and better. Also, the idea of having a true 'home base.' I set out on this experiment wondering how this would all work out and how important the home base really is, but right now I'm really feeling it.

Since I'm a little overwhelmed right now, part of me wants to sell the 'bago and just become a normal person, paying rent and living in a house. My time in the RV has actually been great -- little different than living in a tiny house. But unhook all the utilities, including water, sewer, and electricity, and suddenly, the wold looks much different.

Hopefully my misgivings pass once finals are over. This is just the wrong time to be continuing to invent a wheel that first-world humans abandoned quite some time ago -- perhaps the foundation house with a landlord really is the way to go? I guess time will tell. I intend to stick it out for at least another year.

Leaving Spacedock

After almost nine months parked in the great, white, frozen north, I am pulling my utilities to roam. While I won't be touring national parks or living the grand life on the road, I won't be paying rent.

The plan is more of an experiment to see what it will entail to spend the summer free of a landlord. The benefit will likely be modest amounts of money saved and different views every 14-21 days or so, but it will certainly come with some pitfalls. First, I won't have a a constant source of electricity. That's a big problem. Second, I water will come from a tank, not a spigot. Last, I'll be paying for gas from location to location.

What's worse, living slightly closer to native or chained to a landlord? I don't know? I can guess, but the goal here is to find out. We'll see how long it lasts.

I'm hoping that my biggest problems this summer will be, "Where'd I park my house, again?" I'll be updating my findings as regularly as possible.

I am the 0.4%

I just stumbled on an article that said that 1.3 million Americans are full-time RV'ers. While I'm not really an "RV'er" per say, I do live in an RV full-time. With ~314 million people in the U.S., that means I'm part of the 0.4% of the population living in an RV full-time, either by choice or necessity.

The difference between me and the likely majority that comprise the statistic is that I'm probably about half of the age of most "RV'ers." I'm also not using my RV for "Recreation" -- I'm not spending my days in national parks or living on a pension. I'm parked in a shitty dirt lot behind the office building of the trailer park I'm currently living in. I've been at that location since August and I'll likely only be there until April 30th.

So, as inglorious as it might sound, living in an RV behind an office building for 8-9 months a year, the fact that it's only for that duration is actually quite glorious. Though, that's really the saving grace --- the fact that I get to move my RV a couple times a year for a job somewhere... else.

So, while the 0.4% of the country who are living in RV's year-around probably aren't doing it the way I am, I suppose I'm now part of a strange club of nomads -- a tiny minority of American citizens. Instead of being chained to a landlord or a mortgage company, I'm chained to school and then the fear of utter poverty when school is out. It seems freer, at least for the moment.

No Rent... REALLY?

So, school's out in a few weeks. I'm pulling anchor on April 30th, no matter what. Why? Because I'd rather spend the money that I would pay for "lot rent" on gas to get to somewhere cool. Not that where I'm at isn't cool, but it sure would be great to just go live somewhere else because I can. Why would I live in a high-plains town over the summer when I could live in the mountains and take some shitty job, but step out my front door and be on a motorcycle trail? Or a pack trail? It kind of doesn't make any sense to stay where I am, in part because opportunities are limited and because I don't want to have to cool my house over the summer. It seems that this RV lifestyle is wasted on the old --- I'm having a hard time comprehending the fact that my house can be anywhere I can afford to drive to and then I can come back without any ties in lease or mortgage. It's kind of crazy.

A presentation on the homeless

There was a presentation in my department today about a graduate student's project on the homeless. It got me thinking about what "homeless" is and how we define what homelessness is. By many people's definitions, I'm "homeless." I pay rent as needed, I don't live in a house with a foundation, and my house has wheels and an engine. I have a roof over my head, but no real reason, other than the price of gas, to not roam. Am I homeless?

I realized while thinking about this that I'm the least homeless person I know, despite the fact that many people would classify me as such. The reason I came to this conclusion is that I own the roof over my head outright. Nobody can take away my house because I'm not paying rent -- if I don't want to pay rent, or can't, I unplug my utilities and wait until I can afford rent. I don't have a lease and my mortgage is no longer the roof over my head...

So, who's homeless? I don't think it's me. As I see it, I'm not homeless for more reasons than just owning the roof directly over my head. I also realized that I would actually be willing to camp year-around. My tents are homes in themselves. It seems that I'm realizing that I have a functional view of the world and have broken down the barriers of what "home" is and what it is to be "homeless."

In a nutshell, what I've learned is that the definition of homeless is narrow and kind of ridiculous. Why would I be considered homeless when my living situation involves so little risk from being lost to wealthy bankers or landlords? By definitions, even of academics studying the issue, I am homeless... and I disagree.