Every night I drive a few miles to sleep in a commercial area. I haven’t had any problems with the police yet. I’ve been woken up by homeless people yelling things sometimes, but it’s proven safe so far.

Last night I pulled up next to a narrow sidewalk, leaving only about 18 inches between my bus and a chain link fence, and I thought, “this is ideal because nobody will walk through here; I’ll have privacy on the curb side.”

15 minutes later I heard noises between my bus and the fence. My bus jostled as someone moved around in the tight space.

This might have made me nervous in the past, but I’ve heard people near my vehicle plenty of times before and I know it’s generally not dangerous. So I didn’t react, I just listened, and I went to the window to try to see what was happening.

He was wrestling with a tarp, or maybe a big sheet of plastic. He wasn’t trying to look inside my bus, open the doors, siphon my fuel, or anything like that. He wasn’t being loud or acting erratic in any way.

He wanted a halfway-sheltered place to sleep on a rainy night. My bus was an ideal windbreak and visual barrier.

Resentment built inside me briefly; my night wouldn’t be as restful now because this guy would probably wake me up if he stayed there. I thought about going outside and saying, “Hey, what are you doing? Don’t you know I’m in here?”

Bold move, this guy, sleeping right up against an occupied vehicle!

Then I thought: you know what, if anything, sleeping in my bus is probably more illegal than what he’s doing. He’s got just as much right to be on the sidewalk as I do on the street. He seems harmless and quiet. Why should I go outside and force him to find another place to camp, especially when he’s already facing a night out in the rain? That’s a way harder life than I’m living.

I have literally everything I could want for a comfortable night’s sleep, dry and secure inside locked doors, and here is a fellow human lying eight feet away from me who has to sleep out on the sidewalk in a tarp. It’s really no skin off my back to let him use my bus as a hiding spot, if it’ll help him sleep better. From his perspective, I’m living in luxury. He’s not wrong.

I felt like harassing him would be an abuse of privilege.

So we both went to sleep. I did wake up a few times in the night when he adjusted his tarp. One time he quietly cleared his throat. His movements rocked my bus and it felt strangely cozy; it was almost the closest thing I’ve had to a cuddle in months!

My alarm went off at 5:30 and before driving away, I got out of my bus and walked around to where he was. He’d been so quiet I thought he might have left, but sure enough, he was still on the sidewalk cocooned inside his tarp.

“Hey there. I’m about to move this bus, and I don’t want to scare you. Or hit you.” My loud diesel engine would have been a rude awakening. The sidewalk was so narrow that he was partly beneath the bus and I was nervous I might run him over, or that the tail end of my bus would swing over the sidewalk and smash into him as I turned onto the street.

He said, “No problem. Thank you.” I drove off and in my mirror I saw him standing up and gathering his things. I hope he got some good hours of sleep. I should have offered him a banana.

Photo by Joe Omundson

This experience got me thinking. To a housed person, I look virtually homeless. To a homeless person, I look practically housed.

Which category am I actually closer to? And what criteria can I use to measure that?

Do I have more in common with a typical middle class person, because I have a comfortable bed in a dry shelter every night, I’ve chosen my lifestyle willingly, and all my basic needs are reliably met?

Or am I more like a homeless person, because I sleep on the street, I have no permanent structure to call home, one small mishap could ruin me financially, and I fear the police because my very existence is illegal?

Vandwelling blurs the lines between the classes. I have things in common with both groups.

In the end, I don’t feel a need to fit in with one or the other. People can view me however they like.

By disregarding social and economic expectations, I’ve customized my lifestyle to efficiently satisfy my priorities. I want a bed and a kitchen but I’ll gladly sacrifice running water and AC if it means I don’t have to work full time. My needs can be met easily and cheaply inside a bus.

I think if society were more open to this kind of freedom it would allow more people to spend time doing what matters most to them.