I worry about becoming homeless again. Maybe everyone who has been homeless has this worry, like a PTSD symptom. As I grow older, this sense of impending doom heightens: at some point, I won’t be able to work any more. Because of my struggles to survive, I don’t own a home; have never even come close to anything like that. There’s no reason to think this will change; there doesn’t seem to be another option besides renting rooms in other people’s homes. Rent is just money down the drain; I’m spending roughly $6000 a year on rent, with no return on my investment.
Another problem with renting a room is the lack of privacy. I like my housemate, we get along fine, but I need more privacy to be mentally healthy, a space of my own. Something that cannot be taken away from me. I used to want a tiny house, and that would be lovely, but tiny houses cost nearly as much as real houses these days. And what is a camper but a tiny house on wheels? I’ve been thinking that maybe my goal should be an old camper or RV. I love this idea! You can get an old camper pretty cheaply these days, definitely for less than a year’s rent, if you don’t care about slide-outs. I could re-do the interior, if needed, to a custom style with less kitchen and more craft studio. I hang out in my bed like a medieval lord, but I do need space for sewing machines, an ironing board, supplies.
I see myself in a little RV, fitted out to my peculiar needs, with “Custom Sewing” on the side, tooling down the road to some coastal park. I see myself setting up folding tables outside under my awning to baste a quilt or do other large projects. I see my little home parked on some friendly person’s land where I can enjoy nature instead of neighbors. I see myself traveling, if I choose, or staying put, if that’s what I want. I see myself spending the summer going to craft fairs to sell all the things I made when I was tucked up on someone’s farm for the winter. I see me never being homeless again, instead feeling secure and safe in my little rolling cabin. I see me post-apocalypse, journeying village to village, repairing textiles.
I dream an achievable dream. Here in the PNW, there are more campers, trailers, fifth wheels, and RV’s than there are families. In my neighborhood, every driveway has at least one. Craigslist’s RV section offers a multitude for sale, some incredibly cheaply. I don’t have $6000, or even $1800, but I am resourceful. Maybe I could even find someone who’d rent-to-own their old RV, leaving it on their property until it’s paid off over a year. I need to make sure I choose the right one.
I need your advice. Y’all have never steered me wrong. I may not have family, but I have the collected wisdom of a million Kossacks. And that’s invaluable. I know so little about RVs I don’t even know what questions to ask, but I do have a few.
- Should it be a drivey or a draggy? The kind you drive around is more expensive, but if I got a trailer, I’d have to have it moved wherever I wanted to go. But the engine might break down. More maintenance, more freedom. Still, a small one would not be hard to move, just find someone with a truck. And post-apocalypse, it could be moved by horses.
- How big should it be? I definitely don’t need a whole bus; I’m accustomed to living in 200 square feet. But I’d like as much room as I can get without sacrificing other advantages, like ease of parking. Is it harder to find a place to park it if it’s really long? What’s the optimal size for roominess plus maneuverability?
- Are there styles or brands to avoid? Maybe a fifth-wheel is a bad idea because it can only be moved by a special truck? I have no idea.
- What other questions am I too uninformed to think of?
I’d love to hear your opinions and get your advice. I’m sure many of you have used RVs or even lived in one. You have the wisdom I need! Please share it!
Support my work on Patreon, or
Support my existence, and
Read the blog I’m writing for my estranged child, Dear Daughter
Thanks for reading!