The Journey Part 35

GUESS WHAT BEV IS DOING TONIGHT?

Talk about reacclimating to society . . . Bev is pitching her hiking tent and sleeping outside tonight. There is a bedroom available to her, should she want it, but she doesn’t want it.

The trail calls!

I went over to my best friend’s house today, paid a visit, caught up on his life, stayed maybe two hours there, and I felt antsy the full two hours. It was hard for me to concentrate on the conversation, hard for me to sit still and just talk while staring at the same road in his HOA.

Even Maggie would prefer to be in the bus rather than spend too much time outside.

Weird stuff, my friends!

More people dropping off the trail of late.   Too much danger.  It’s that kind of freak year.

I was thinking about the small towns I want to visit, the people I want to meet. Nothing specific, mind you, just an overall desire to see the tiniest of tiny towns, talk to the normalest of normal people, find out why they live there, what life is all about, why do they stay there, what holds them to that particular dot on a map, what brings them joy, what are their concerns, you know, ,just casual small talk between total strangers. 😊 Bridging the gap by looking for commonalities.

THE NITTY GRITTY OF BUS LIFE

Let’s get this statement out into the sunlight for all to see, in an attempt at total disclosure: there are some negatives about living out of a bus, on the road.  For me, the positives far outweigh those negatives but still, I don’t want any of you to mistake the glowing pictures I paint, with words, to be the total truth about this lifestyle.

We begin with what, for many people, would be a deal-breaker: lack of space for your worldly possessions and necessities.

I tell people I live in an 18-foot school bus and yes, that sounds small, but to better appreciate just how small it is, realize that the living space is about 110-square feet. I would venture to guess that almost all of the rooms in the houses you currently live in are larger than 110-square feet.  Now imagine taking all of the possessions you own and shrinking that number down until it will all fit into the bus space.

You discover, very quickly, what qualifies as a necessity and what qualified as fluff.

We have done it, and I am being honest when I say I do not miss anything I discarded but still, it is a major adjustment.

Point #2, the bus is a motor vehicle, with a rather large engine, with rather large tires, and motor vehicles will have mechanical issues, usually sooner rather than later. That’s just the real of it. I recently had to have new brakes put on, to the tune of $1300, and I am looking at new tie rods in the near future, another $800.

And no, Puddle Walker does not get outstanding gas mileage. It gets between 12-15 mph, which isn’t bad for a Skoolie; however, with a 25-gallon tank, it means I can drive about 300 miles and then fork out $100, at least, to fill the tank and get back on the road. This would require much more money than this boy has, so adjustments must be made, and we will talk about those adjustments shortly.

Point #3, where do we call home?  Where do we park Puddle Walker each night? This is a huge consideration, again a cost factor.  RV parks can cost upwards of $75 per night; state parks less than that, maybe $40-$50 per night, and if you do the math, it quickly becomes apparent that you need some serious cash to park this home on wheels . . . unless . . . and we will get to the unless shortly.  On a related note, it is necessary, if only for the IRS, that you have a permanent address. The IRS wants to know where they can find you, as does your bank, your doctor, and a whole crowd of others.  Not an impossible problem to overcome but still, it is worth noting.

Point #4, your medical considerations.  If you have medical insurance, you need to make sure it is handy if you are 2000 miles away from your normal doctor’s office. Again, not insurmountable, but again worth noting.

Point #5, where do you go to the bathroom? Where will you shower? Where will you get clean drinking water?  How about dumping your waste? So many things we take for granted, living in a home, suddenly become eye-openers when driving your home.

Those, I believe, are the main issues one faces, so let’s talk about how to make this lifestyle doable.

Point #1 is unavoidable. That’s the real of it, folks. Vehicles need maintenance, and vehicles need work. The best you can do is keep it maintained, and budget for the work it will need.  Remember, though, that owning a real home ain’t cheap. There always seems to be something going wrong with the furnace or the air conditioner or the plumbing, and those things ain’t cheap either.

Point #2, on a budget like ours, is only doable if you limit your driving.  $100 per week is reasonable for this lifestyle; $100 per day is going to break the bank very quickly. This means staying in place a week at a time, or longer, to cut down on the gas expense.

Which brings us to Point #3, which not only solves Point #2 but also solves Point #2 . . . learn the fine art of dispersed camping, otherwise known as boondocking. This simply means finding free parking spaces, as in BLM Land, where you can camp for free, oftentimes for a maximum of fourteen days. This is truly the best of all worlds for bus life, finding a beautiful spot in nature, setting up camp for a couple weeks, and virtually cutting your expenses down to the cost of food.

Is it possible long-range? There are long-term camping sites, in Arizona and California, where you can stay for 180 days for a fee of $180.  Now that, folks, is cheap living!

The other points are easily solved with a little research and some willingness. I have a cassette toilet in the bus, and a curtain for privacy when nature calls. It is easy to dump it in a porta-potty, which you can find at most parks.  Water is readily available if you are looking for it; the paperwork with doctors and the IRS et al is something you simply need to work out. Find a relative who will let you use their address as your permanent address. Problem solved. As for the doctor, do your research, and the sooner the better.

I look at this list and I think damn, not so bad at all, and it gets easier as the days pile up. There are many websites and apps out there which help immensely with information former homeowners don’t even know they need . . . until they need it. There are seasoned veteran RVers and nomads who will gladly share information and tips with you.  It is only a lonely life on the road if you want it to be.

WHY AM I DOING THIS?

Have you ever watched a dog chase its own tail? I’m sure you have, and I’m sure you thought what I have thought, namely why in the world are they doing that? What’s the purpose of that chase?

The same question could be, and has been, asked of me and Bev.  Why are we doing this craziness, shucking it all and tossing away our safety nets?

I can’t answer for Bev, but I can tell you this about me: I really don’t have a concrete answer for that question, other than to repeat the now oft-repeated line “if not now, when?”

I grew tired of suburbia and all that it entails. I was bored with my life and, truth be told, with me. I needed to change before I yawned myself to death.  We could look at heavier reasons, the need to meet people, to learn about my country, and all of that is true, but there was no sudden awakening, no chasing after dark secrets hidden in my psyche, none of that juicy stuff. I am not trying to write a bestseller about this journey, I am not trying to win awards for outstanding videos on YouTube, and I really don’t feel like I’m trying to change my legacy or establish a legacy.

What I discovered, though, is a new love of myself, although that was never really the impetus, and a greater appreciation for this country I live in and the people who inhabit it.

I plan on continuing. I will try to be a good person, a person people want to meet and talk to, and I hope to prove a theory I have, that the vast majority of people in this world are fundamentally good, and all of that noxious crud on tv and social media is so much dog poop liner.

Anyway, I’m just a guy, floundering at times, stumbling and bumbling my way through life, and I want to meet other stumblers and bumblers.

Leave the porch light on. You never know when I’ll be knocking on your door.