San Diego 280

The difference between living out of a van and a small car is night and day. It's not so much about the setup, but rather the paranoid feeling that someone is watching me. A few years back, when I was traveling and living out of my small Volvo, I constantly felt like someone was peeping through a window or just passerbyers. You never really feel homeless until you find yourself sleeping in a neighborhood in a nice city or town. My setup wasn't the most private; it was more like a declaration that screamed, "Look at me, I'm a dirtbag climber living in my car." I had clothes and climbing gear stacked up head-high on my passenger seat, while old, raggedy T-shirts were jammed into the plastic edges where the car's ceiling meets the door. It was sufficient to cover most of the light, but it wasn’t aesthetically pleasing.

Living out of a small car almost always meant waking up at the crack of dawn. Your body just adapts to it, and it's tough. That's probably the biggest change I’ve noticed since living in my van: I don't feel the need to wake up immediately. I feel like I'm in my space, and if I want to wake up at 7 am, I will. Lately, it's been cold, so I appreciate what I’ve built inside my van a bit more. I'm reminded that, although it's not much, it has come a long way.