Why I Live in a Van

This story is fifteen years in the making; I will try to make it so it does not take that long to read…

In 2007 my first wife and I were struggling in Sacramento, California. Our life together was financed by a string of short term jobs that, at best, paid the bills. When our car was repossessed in August of that year, we understood that a drastic change was needed and planned moving to Phoenix. A battered Mazda from the late 80s was traded for a 1978 Dodge Maxivan; everything that would fit in the van was sold at yard sales, given away, or left behind in our rented apartment. Audrey and I took a raw, two day journey like the Joads in reverse, me kissing the ground when we arrived safely in the capital of Arizona.

In Phoenix, we got the best jobs of our lives and a nice, three bedroom rental house. Audrey and I bought furniture for every room: Beds. Couches. A chest freezer. Bookcases. Life was good, we were making decent money and had a good sized house full of new furniture including three televisions—

And then my wife lost her job but I was making decent money so things would work out—

And then I lost my job.

The two of us elected to return home to Sacramento. We rented a 24 foot moving truck, packed it with all our new furniture, and towed our car back to Sacramento. Two storage spaces were rented as we were staying at my mother-in-law’s house. A year passed. California was still reeling from the Great Recession so jobs were scarce. The strain of the situation led my wife and I to separate and we sold what we could out of the storage units; I doubt we got ten cents on the dollar.

I retreated to Lodi to stay with my mother until I got back on my feet. Depression set in, not just because I was in Lodi and not just because of our marriage falling apart, I felt like a failure: I had been making good money as had my partner. We had acquired a lot of grown up furniture and a grown up house only to lose it all. I had nothing therefore I had failed.

In January of 2012, my sister and her husband were moving from Colorado to Portland, Oregon and asked for my help driving the moving truck. I flew to Denver with just a carry on bag, expecting to be on the road two weeks at most. I fell in love with Portland and ended up staying three months. During that time something amazing happened to me: I came to realize that I was happy with what was in that small suitcase, some used books I had bought, and art supplies from the dollar store.

Really? That’s all I needed? Yes, and understanding that was an intense experiencing. Saying something is liberating is a cliche, but it fits—realizing that I needed so little to be happy changed my life. Ten years later, everything I own fits in a minivan and a closet in a spare bedroom…and it’s enough. It’d be good to have a solar oven and a kayak at some point, but those are more things I kinda want rather than things I need.

I used to believe in the American Dream, I used to believe that being a grown up meant owning a real house filled with furniture and a steady job with a retirement plan. Ten years ago I came to understand that such a path was not for me; this is why I happily live out of a 2010 Honda Odyssey. My requiring so little in the way of possessions or security has allowed me to see twelve states in the two years since I got on the road. It’s an amazing life full of experiences...but it is not always easy. There is discomfort on occasion, finding a safe spot for the night can be challenging, but when you meet those challenges there is the sensation of genuine acheivement and growth.