Home sweet home.
I’ve been living on the road for more than a year now. I’ve gone from van dwelling with my friend and filmmaker, Chris, to living off of my motorcycle on the floor at my father’s in a small sublet in Los Angeles, and now, back in the van.
Time turns quite quickly, no? About 18 months ago, I was moving into an apartment on Queen Anne, one of Seattle’s more well-to-do neighborhoods. A phone call from my friend Chris prompted a six week long search for surf into Southern California, a project later dubbed “The Peelgrimage.” My hasty return home and ensuing divorce motivated me to move. Anywhere. So I went south. In the ten (plus) months that followed, I have traveled from Seattle to San Diego, back to Seattle, then to Los Angeles, then back to Seattle, then back to San Diego. From there we (my father, and my girlfriend Kyra, and I) crossed the border into Baja on our motorcycles, returning to San Diego a month later. We stayed in the area for awhile, and then rode our dual-sports from Los Angeles to Las Vegas, where we rendezvoused with my mother. After that, Kyra and I headed south to her home in Tempe, AZ and back to Seattle shortly before Christmas…
You catch all that? Mileage, amigo! I’ve been adding it up! Something like 20,000. So with that said, I’d like to break down a few of the things I’ve learned along the way. Lessons, if you will, from a year spent living on the run, er, the road.
Courtesy of images4
1. Prepare to be judged.
Judged by your friends, your family, co-workers both past and present, as well as a lot of the people you’ll likely meet along the way.
You’re not going to have room for that, bro. Photo: Shutterstock
2. Excess is Excessive.
There’s this scene in the movie Grand Prix where the owner of the Japanese team is talking to James Garner, his new driver, about Americans and their excess. Something along the lines of: “Why do Americans buy big houses with lots of closets, and then fill those closets with things they don’t use… and then buy bigger houses because they’re running out of closest space?” That scene has always stuck with me–a reminder that if I haven’t used something in a year, or more, I likely won’t use it again.
Prior to your departure and perhaps somewhere in the middle–assuming there’s a beginning and an end–it’s good to look over all the things occupying your space, whether you’re traveling by motorbike, backpack or cargo van. Clothing is the easiest thing to over do, and also the easiest thing to exorcise. How many shirts do you really need? And jackets, are you really going to wear that windbreaker? I like to lay all of my apparel out, and if I haven’t worn something in more than a month, and if it’s not a necessity were I to encounter a certain kind of climate, it goes.
Black t-shirts are best, as you can wear them for days on end without evidence. A base layer is also important, but not everything has to be made by an overpriced outdoor brand. I have a thin grey sweatshirt, purchased second-hand, that has travelled with me for years. It’s an essential, and that is essentially what you want. Things you can’t live without. Everything else? Well, you know what to do with it. Now, I know people like opinion, so here goes: get rid of two-thirds of your clothes before you hit the road. Take things for two climates: warm and cold. You can always layer. Socks and underpants are important, but you don’t need one pair for every day you’re on the road. You can wash things. A simple solution is a bottle of mint flavored Dr. Bronner’s soap and a small plastic tub… or sink. My last bit of advice in regards to getting rid of things is this: you already own too much, so making excuses means you’ll never learn to let go. Unless it’s an heirloom or an essential, you can always acquire another one along the way.
Say yes to this. Always. Photo: Shutterstock
3. Never Say No to a Driveway.
I think people are starting to learn their lesson. You meet me in the parking lot of some surf spot; we chat, share a few waves, you hear about what I’ve got going on and then suggest I park my rig in your driveway for a few days. “Stay as long as you like! Feel free to use the shower, the shitter, etc.” Often times people say these things as a gesture of good will, not anticipating you’ll take them up on their offer. I, however, never say “no.” A policy? Perhaps. Whatever you care to call it, these conversations and the ensuing offers have lead to a number of wonderful friendships. And if they offer, whether it’s good manners or they’re honestly concerned about your well being, you should say yes. It’ll open doors, literally.
4. Keep it Clean.
Your butt. No, really. Have you seen that documentary, Surfwise, about Dorian “Doc” Paskowitz? He and his wife and NINE (!) children lived in a variety of RV’s for the better part of two decades. The most important rule they had? Keep your asshole clean. Showers can be skipped here and there. Hell, I think I’ve gone two solid weeks living and sleeping in the same shirt and shorts. But your butt, you’ve gotta keep that thing clean. And honestly, showers are important also. You can usually find a hostel with a “pay-to-play” shower–something like $3. You can also utilize State Parks, a number of which have coin operated shower stalls. There are even a few surf shops along the left coast with outdoor showers you can use. All of that to say, living in a van or off your motorbike doesn’t have to leave you unkempt and smelling like old socks. Just take advantage of any and all opportunities to scrub yourself down with some soap. Oh, and on that note, Dr.Bronners–that hippie shit I mentioned earlier with all the words on the bottle–works great! You can use it on just about everything: your face, your hair, all the bits of your body, and you can even wash your clothes with it. Beware, though, the mint variety might leave your business a bit tingly. My friend Walker calls it “a breath mint for your balls.”
Distractions are very distracting. Courtesy: Giphy
5. All Day Distractions (A.D.D.)
Like a lot of people in our generation, I likely have what doctors would have described as A.D.D. The over-prescribed affliction that explains why I can’t stay focused when browsing between Netflix, Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter and Instagram. Sense the sarcasm?
Anyhow… My lack of attention, or perhaps the abundance of distractions provided in daily life these days, leaves me anxious at times. When you’re on the road, traveling from place to place, uncertain where you’ll sleep, it’s easy to allow this anxiety to overcome you. Also, small spaces aren’t for everyone. A solution I discovered was to do away with many, if not all, of the distractions that haunted, er, overwhelmed me.
Mindfulness, or whatever, is much more entertaining than hour after hour of the latest streaming show. Try to create something of your own instead of intake the work of others. Draw, write or cook. Make something. Make a list! Things you’d like to do, places you’d like to see or sketch a design of something you’ve been meaning to make. The time you’ll have on the road is precious. Soon enough you’ll be back in your urban apartment watching the latest season of some shit, staring at your hand screen, seemingly disconnected from both and yet wholly entranced by all of it.
On the subject of the Internet, something that is required for me to work, your best bet is to steal it. Starbucks is always an option, but so are libraries, sandwich shops and even bars. I can’t tell you how many times I wrapped up a project sitting over a pint at Pizza Port in San Clemente after surfing all day. Lastly, if you’re planning to be on the road for quite some time, get yourself a gym membership to one of those (truly) 24-hour joints. Most have showers you can use, as well as Internet you can access from the parking lot.
6. On Eating Out.
I’m not a good cook. Top Ramen, toast with peanut butter… that’s about it. Honest. So dealing with a healthy diet is hard, as pizza and pints are all too available and appealing. What I’ve learned, however, is that you can find something solid to eat just about anywhere. It can be tempting to stop at fast food joints, but avoid it. You’ll feel better in the long run. When you pull into a store in the middle of nowhere, grab an apple or an orange and a water. The coffee might be crap, but it’s better than a soda. Even fast-food joints have healthy options nowadays–although I wouldn’t recommend it. Another option, however this won’t work when traveling by bike, is to stock up on snacks. Granola, trail-mix (make your own using those bulk bins), fruit, and the ever-important peanut butter and bread. You’d be amazed how many times you can eat the same thing… every day… for months.
What are you scared of? Photo: Shutterstock
7. You’ll be dead soon enough.
I think the last thing I’d like to shed light on is people’s inability to let go of comfort–or perceived comfort. A friend recently suggested that he would like to move to Mexico: somewhere with cheap beer, warm water and consistent surf. I asked why he hadn’t already. “We have the money,” he responded. “We just need the courage.” About midway in our current adventure, I accepted a job in Seattle. Kyra and I were living out of my van in Southern California at the time, having just returned from that month long motorcycle trip into Mexico. Hesitant, but eager for the extra income, we packed up our things and headed north. When we arrived in Seattle, we slept on the floor of my father’s apartment while we looked for one of our own within walking distance of my new office. Fast forward a few weeks, and the two of us were comfortably residing in a studio apartment furnished with all the things we could possibly want. Not more than three weeks later, however, the company I’d been hired by brought in a new manager who, having been on the job for just a week himself, decided to do away with the entire marketing department, myself included.
Fear was the first feeling. “What the fuck are we going to do now!?” It was a weird feeling given the fact that we’d spent so much time living in uncertainty. But comfort comes quickly, and like any good drug leaves you wanting more. So the idea of abandoning all these things–the apartment, the chesterfield couch I purchased from a disgruntled gay couple, the teal waterfall dresser we drove four hours to find, the beautiful French doors that separated our dining and living rooms (le sigh) was disheartening. It was, however, all just a bunch of “stuff.”
And my earlier experience was a reminder that you can get rid of everything, perceived comfort included, and still be happy. Maybe happier than you were to begin with, or more than you’ll ever be again. Courage came next. We packed up our shit (again!) and decided that instead of staying in a city neither one of us was fond of, we would move back into the van and head… south?
Certainty is something people find incredibly important. But there’s beauty in the unknown. And freedom, that’s for sure. Our decision was forced upon us this time. However, as soon as we handed over the keys to the apartment and climbed back into the van, a concordant sigh of relief escaped us. No, we’re not sure what the future holds, where we’ll live, whether we’ll be able to pay all of our bills on time, or even where we’ll sleep tonight. But like I said earlier, before we blink our eyes ten-thousand times, we’ll be settled somewhere, grocery shopping and rearranging furniture for the foreseeable future. So, like I suggested to my friend who can’t seem to find the courage to move his ass to Mexico: “Sometimes you just have to say “what the fuck!” and make your move.
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