Homeless Steve

It's been relatively hot in San Diego. The weather isn't so bad compared to other places in the world, but when you're confined to living inside a small Toyota Tacoma, it gets pretty unbearable. The afternoon heat regularly melts the sticky velcro on my truck's curtains and I'm constantly needing to reassemble it at night when the weather has cooled down a few degrees.

I've been thinking about different solutions to the heat problem and in theory have come up with using Reflectix, a radiant barrier (poor transmitter of infrared waves) that is commonly used in homes. The problem is locating where I can buy a small quantity at a low price (I'm trying to be frugal after all).

I was on the way to Target in search of the material when I spotted a dirty white colored van sitting isolated in the parking lot. The location made perfect sense despite being in the wide open parking lot:

1.) It was far enough from any particular business that normal shoppers wouldn't disturb the person(s) inside the van
2.) Even business owners might think that the van's owner was simply shopping at another location

I pulled around and decided to investigate further. I slowly circled the vehicle and did a quick analysis. The side curtains were drawn, but the windows were open. The back door was cracked to allow ventilation, but not enough to directly see inside. Laying across the roof was a cargo box and an open vent. Even though I couldn't physically see in it, I was confident someone was living in the vehicle.

I stopped a few parking stalls away from the van and approached the vehicle on foot. I wasn't sure how to start off a conversation so I loudly asked "Hi, is anyone in there?". As soon as the words left my mouth, I immediately felt bad; I probably startled the hell out of this person. I heard some faint scrambling noises inside.

I quickly followed it up by saying that I've been living out of my truck for the last month and that I wasn't a guard or a tow truck guy. I continued to have a one way conversation explaining that I came to ask for some advice on escaping the summer heat. After a couple minutes of what felt like talking to a rock, I saw a bearded man in his late 50's pop out into the driver's seat.

The homeless guy was friendly and said, "Hey, I didn't see you there. How's it going? So you're homeless too? Where's your truck?"

I pointed to my truck and explained my setup. He confirmed what I learned in my past month homeless; trucks are good for blending into an environment, but aren't good for extended homeless stays (since you don't have enough room to do anything in it). His opinion was that I wasn't going to last in the truck for long.

We traded notes on how we've been living so far. I told him some of my stories and favorite/worst places to park. He had a good laugh on my 'exploration' of sleeping areas, which included Wal-Marts and near police stations. He commented that parking in Wal-Mart lots would inevitably get your vehicle towed, but that parking at a McDonalds overnight never caused him any trouble.

He was quite frank on how he lived. He said that if he needed to pee, he peed in a giant fast food cup lying around. If he needed to go number two, he just used a plastic bag and threw it into a nearby trash can. He kept constantly moving to make sure that police didn't catch him (since it was illegal to live in a car).

As we continued talking in the blistering heat, I got a better idea about the guy; he had a raw, primal, and sincerely simple energy about him. He seemed like he could live off of practically nothing (which he probably did). There's something about a person that can take a shit into a plastic bag and not worry about things like hand sanitizer. Despite logic, the man had survived five years of van dwelling; even the 'necessities' that I thought I needed weren't really that necessary. (FYI: I respect his living style, but am not anywhere near adopting many of his lifestyle philosophies)

He had bought his vehicle for approximately $2000 about 10 years ago and has lived in it ever since. He was vague about how he got into his 'situation', but as we got deeper into our conversation, he expressed genuine fears about how anxious he was getting. At times he'd lose sleep over whether his car would start up the next day.

As soon as his car can't start up, he'd be dead in the water. He would be towed and wouldn't have the money to bail his car out. He explained that even though he didn't have many material possessions and despite how meager those possessions were, it was still all he had. He said that he was getting too old for living in his car and was finally looking for a place to stay.

I wished him luck in getting a room to rent. Before I walked away, I asked him what his name was. He replied "Steve" and I thanked him for readily sharing his sage advice. I extended my hand, ready to shake his, when both of us glanced at each other. For a second, we shared a telepathic link that said "Oh yeah, Steve shits in plastic bags in his car". I instantly retracted my hand shake and waved goodbye, saying "I'll see you around... maybe at a McDonalds parking lot."

Good luck Steve, I wish you the best.