The first time I ever slept in my car was the summer of 2017. I was 17 years old. For whatever reason, I decided I didn't want to go home that day.
I walked home from work, and got into my car that I had parked a block from my house. It was outside an apartment building, and my car was sandwiched
within a line of cars.
I put up my front window shade, pushed my front seats all the way forward, and crawled onto the backseat. I
covered myself with blankets and closed my eyes. I don't remember anyone walking by, and hardly any cars passed. It was a fairly quiet night; the only
disturbance being the street lights above. I laid there for probably 5 hours, and maybe I slept a combined total of an hour. At 3 a.m., I decided to give up,
and I walked the block back to my house.
That same summer, I took a road trip with my mom to San Francisco. We rented a car - a luxurious Toyota
Corolla. In an effort to save money and make the trip as economical as possible, we opted to sleep in the car most nights rather than stay at a hotel.
The first night, we found ourselves in Reno, Nevada outside a casino called 'Boomtown'. We parked in the outskirts; my mom in the driver's seat and me on
the passenger side. We reclined the seats back as far as the car allowed, and tried to sleep. I remember some people walked by in front of the car. I don't
know if they could see us, but I imagine we looked wildly miserable. I laid there staring at the large, brightly lit sign on the casino for too many hours.
Similar to my first experience sleeping in my car, my sleep was segmented and interrupted. However, at some point, I must've been sleeping pretty decently
because the next thing I remember was waking up at a Chevron, as my mom decided to get gas. It was 4 a.m., and the world felt so unfamiliar and confusing.
We carried on the rest of the way to California. We spent a night in the parking lot of a WalMart in Fresno I believe it was, and at a Target in Santa Rosa.
We did splurge for two nights out of the seven and got a hotel room. Maybe it's weird to say, but I think back on those times so fondly. Neither of
us slept well in that car, and we'd wake up feeling like we got hit by a truck. But something about it was satisfying - knowing that we made it
work and could do it. I had a great deal of fun on that trip.
After those experiences, it wouldn't be until I was 20 that I would start sleeping
in my car more regularly. I still had - and still do to this day - the same car that I did at 17. It took a lot of trial and error, and many uncomfortable nights,
but eventually I fine tuned things to where my car is amazing to sleep in now. I go to sleep and stay asleep, and wake up feeling refreshed. What made the biggest
difference for me was laying my backseat down. I sleep with my legs in the trunk and the upper part of my body on the back of the backseat. I have to sleep on
a diagonal in order to fully stretch out. I don't have a mattress of any kind in the car, and I use pillows and blankets as cushions. It works fairly well,
and I am content in the car.
This past summer, I had my first nights car camping on BLM land. It's something I've wanted to do for a couple years now,
but I've always been too nervous. I would conjure up a million reasons why I shouldn't go - what if my car breaks down? what if I can't find a place to camp?
what if an emergency happens and I'm stuck out in the middle of nowhere? what if someone knocks on my window in the night and kicks me out? and on and on..
But this summer, those reasons were all replaced with an igniting excitement. I quit my job in April, graduated college in May; I was freed up
from most of my obligations and responsibilities, and I wasn't sure how long that would last. So what the hell, why not drive a few hours so I could sleep
in my car in the desert for awhile?
I made my way to Moab, Utah. I drove up to Canyonlands, but I got there too late in the evening; the
visitor's center was closed. I turned around, and started trying to find a place to sleep for the night. Before I embarked on this trip, I made a list of
free camp sites in the area, which I'm thankful I did as cell service was spotty there. I realized pretty quickly, though, that many of the places I wrote down
were not actually accessible with my little two wheel drive sedan. I started freaking out, not knowing what I would do. I even started considering driving
home.
Just when I thought all was lost and was about to give up, I passed a turn-off that had one of those big wooden information signs. I did a u-turn,
and went to check it out. I parked and walked over to read the sign. To my disappointment, it was just talking about the rules for off-roading. I walked
around a bit more, and something piqued my interest: a sign that said 'no camping beyond this point'. Oh? I kept walking and to my relief, I finally spotted
one of those rock fire rings. I knew I would be fine to park next to it and camp there, so I did. I then got out of my car and ran around a bit, beyond excited to
have found a place. Here is a picture I took that evening:
The sunset was amazing that day. The wind was wild. I ate a can of mixed vegetables for dinner. I went to sleep in total darkness, with only the stars shining above.
That first night, with the wind raging, it was a noisy night. At times, it almost sounded like people yelling. I slept there the next night, and
there was no wind then. It was perfectly still and silent, the darkness feeling more palpable now. I felt the tiniest bit unsettled because if there were
any noises, I would definitely hear every single one. But I didn't let that bother me. I slept so deep and so sound.
I'll never forget those first nights out
in the desert. I was no stranger to sleeping in my car at that point, but this was an entirely different experience. I was far from home and far from anyone I knew.
Internet research told me I could camp on public land, but it's different when you personally actually go out and do it. I didn't have verbal confirmation that I was
allowed to be there, I didn't ask permission. However, as I laid there falling asleep, I felt incredibly safe and secure. I didn't feel on edge in the slightest.
And that is such an exhilarating feeling. To be out in nature, sleeping for free, in a place that you are welcome to be. No matter what happens in my life,
there are spaces that I am allowed to occupy that do not take having a lease or income. That is so freeing, so encouraging.
I have big plans for next year, once the weather warms up again. My car has been having a couple issues as of late, so I'll need to get a few things
checked before I set out too far. I do want to clarify that at this time, I am not living in my car fulltime. And most of the times when I am sleeping in my
car, I'm on privately owned land where I don't have to worry about anyone bothering me. I know I am fortunate to be able to experience sleeping in my car as a
recreational, carefree activity. I do not take that for granted.
It was a tumultuous time, as is now.
Those bittersweet September days,
It rained every now and then,
But the blistering heat stole the show more often than not.
I watched everything move around me,
I felt the fear,
the strain.
I reacted by running.
I wanted nothing to do with cause and effect.
One quiet night,
In that in between stage
Where the world remains cloaked in darkness,
Yet the first birds have already begun greeting the sunrise.
I awoke from a short sleep.
In the next room over,
Dreams by Fleetwood Mac was softly playing,
If I wasn't paying attention, I would have missed it.
But I intently listened,
Lying in that brief calmness,
Nothing else in the world mattered.
I existed to hear that song,
To lie on that firm couch.
How quickly the hours passed,
That moment may as well as never happened,
And yet it did.
I still hold onto that feeling.
From there, I ran back.
I was a witness,
But now I was a partaker.
Even if for only one day.
And it was a perfect one day.
It feels like forever,
When you're in it,
It always ends up passing in the blink of an eye, though.
No matter how intently you stop to take it in,
It'll be over before you know it.
In the scheme of my life, I have experienced many segments.
Blocking outs of which feeling defines each era.
The past 2 years have been a lifetime of their own.
But before that, and even a few years before that, I remember a very different existence.
I felt those hard things, I cried often, and I collapsed in on myself,
I also enveloped myself in this world. I felt each corner, the wealth of being fully present.
The warm, yet cool, evening air in July.
I sat out in the grass for hours and hours, and I captured 1,200 moments.
I still have each one saved.
If not for those, my memory would have colluded out every ounce of that by now.
These days, these times, I am steadfast in bland.
I feel those hard things, and I stay put.
The fun things like taking pictures for no reason at all have ebbed out of importance.
"What's the point in that? I'm too busy."
I remember what it was like to do things for the sake of doing them.
I stood nothing to gain, yet I thrived off those feelings.
I looked forward to the times when I could forget.
Do we exist to maintain?
To be focused, driven, and functional?
Or are we supposed to enjoy?
Drink deeply from the wells of our passions, from the eternal youth of our souls?
It is a cliche, I realize.
Life is not whimsical, and magic does not exist. I know the laws of physics, the laws of man.
But internally, there must be some part of all of us that recognizes those indescribable moments.
When words do not matter.
What someone said to you yesterday is forgotten.
The mistakes of the past dissipate.
All that exists, all that matters, is what's right in front of you at that second.
For me, it was always those summer evenings, when dusk would not creep in at 5 pm.
The light would stick around for so many hours, there was plenty of time to indulge.
I have not done that in years.
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