Living In Public

I got here too early. Way too early, at the end of February.

I wanted to get a good deal on a used car at a time of year when car sales are slow, and to pick up one from at least a year ago rather than a few months ago. Via Hertz Car Sales, anyway, more reliable than Bob's Random Car Sales Lot or a private party.

I have no home here anyway, so I needed to make a transaction happen within a span of days rather than of weeks or months. That part worked. And then what?

I sat. In the rain. In the rain inside the library. In the rain inside the car. In the rain, sleeping, at night, in the car, listening to the rain pound down. For a long time now. Like a week short of three months, although the rain let up about a month back. Despite that, I still have to wait.

First I waited for the rain to end, and now I'm waiting for high-country snow to melt.

I've checked. Anything above 4000 feet (1200m) still lies under snow. Can't walk there. Can't drive close enough to walk there. The backcountry is closed, the roads are. Even some low places I could go have washed-out roads, so I can't go there either. And now the Memorial Day weekend is here, and all sorts of nuts will be out driving around. Have to wait that out.

Maybe in a week. I will get out. I will. That's why I'm here.

Right now, though, I'm waiting. Still waiting. Waiting is harder than it sounds, partly because everywhere I go, I'm visible. Out there. A fixture of any public place I happen to be in, and there are no private spaces for me here.

I used to live here. I had an apartment. I liked it. I was in my apartment a lot, and when I wasn't in there, I knew that I could return to it, go through the door, shut the door, and be home. Alone. Alone and quiet and safe and private. I can't do that now, not here, not at this time.

I have a car. I can move, I can drive, I can go, but I can't drive home. I can't be home. I have none. I can be a guy sitting in his car eating in a parking lot, or a guy parked, sleeping in the back of his car, in what I hope is a place that no one will investigate.

Everything I do is public now — sleeping, eating, bathing, pissing, shitting, traveling, cleaning house, making my bed, reading, sorting, packing, unpacking. Everything. All of it.

Even if I'm out in the woods, privacy is temporary, if I happen to be in a place where no one else is, at that moment, then I am alone for that moment only. When others are around my privacy is partial — screened from one side if I'm on the other side of my car, which just leaves me open and visible and vulnerable, at least to being seen, on the side I'm on, anyway. There is no resolution, no absolute, as in closing the solid front door of my apartment and shutting out all the world without exception.

Now I'm out there, out here. I'm here, and if you are too, then you are too, and all I can do is to put up with it, or drive away. Meanwhile I have to do only those things that are allowed in public, and not do the others, and try not to look too "suspicious", which is a description these days.

It gets stale. It does.

If I do any more of this next year, and I might, or might not, I'm doing it in a van. It would not be glorious or luxurious but it would be private. That's all I really crave. I could sit on the floor of a van with a squirt bottle and washcloth and bathe. I could do that, with the cover provided by even a small van, and be satisfied, in my own little way, but I can't do that in the vehicle I have now, which is too small even for me, and all windows.

So later then. We'll let things stew for now. I have months to go. We'll let things stew and later on I'll decide yes or no, or stay or go, but I won't do things this way again. I am not a public person and need to live up to that

Life On Wheels

I'm not sure yet, but it's got to have wheels, engine not optional. I need a vehicle because it's going to be my home.

I've been living somewhere nice, outside the U.S., but I'm close to the end of my life and I'm bored here. It would be a good place to die, but so far as I can tell, that won't be today, or tomorrow, or even next week, so I might as well get up on my hind legs and move around.

I have places to see, and I can walk. The other version of that is that I can walk and have places I sill want to see, and they aren't here, mostly.

At "home", in the U.S., I know where things are and how to get to them, which means having a vehicle. That's going to be it. I don't own a house and I guess though I could buy something going by that name, it would be pointless to have, because houses — normal houses — don't move. "Mobile homes" don't count. They aren't. Mobile. Or homes, mostly.

The same applies to apartments. They're even more expensive than houses in most ways, but still fixed, and then you always need to keep one eye open for the landlord, not that you're doing anything wrong, but you always have to be ready to present a presentable presence.

In other words, you need to constantly, in effect, wear your best clothes and be on your best behavior.

Screw that.

Anyway, I can't afford to rent anything. Going by the one-third of your income to rent rule, I can't afford anything I'd consider living in, unless it, like any house I'd hypothetically buy, was somewhere I would not want to live. Because that's where the cheap is.

So vehicles, but which?

Going by the Lust Rule, I need a Toyota Yaris iA, s rebadged Mazda 2, available with a manual transmission. Tight, crisp, tiny, responsive, cheap-ish, and frugal all around. But for living in? Eh. About two-thirds the floorspace size of my current bathroom, which is just barely large enough so I don't bump into myself every time I turn around quickly. Take that and figure in about six inches of headroom, and you have a decent coffin for two, but not a great space to call home during a rainy week.

Going by the Rule of Practicalities, I need a van, a cargo van, but they're screamingly expensive, large, skeletal, sloppy, loose, wide, wallowing, unresponsive, and profligate on fuel use. I don't want a 350 cubic inch (6 liter) V8 engine dragging around an empty steel box that retails for $35K at the bottom end. (Or used, 10-15 years old with 150K to 250K miles on it.)

Then there is everything in between.

Like the Kia Soul, a hatchback SUV-wannabe built on the Kia Rio chassis, which has little ground clearance, not much interior room, and lousy fuel economy for such a small vehicle.

Or a step up, a Kia Sportage, Hyundai Tucson, or Nissan Rogue: compact SUVs, which are really smallish to medium-sized family cars with an aggressive look and lots of cupholders. Cupholders are a big thing these days. They appear in car reviews and their numbers and placement affect the final score. And the "infotainment" systems. Fuck infotainment, you ask me. Of my first two cars, which I drove for a total of almost 30 years, neither even had a radio. A radio is enough for me, so fuck infotainment systems.

All of these look decent, and I'm focusing on them because they're readily available through Hertz Car Sales, which is where I'm focused for now. Want used? Check there. Good selection, good deals, but not for every vehicle made.

Other than that — not a bunch. Kia Forte looks great. I had a Hyundai Accent during the summer of 2016 and it was fine, aside from a suspension system consisting of several springs stolen from ballpoint pens and a few marshmallows for dampening. Even drive near a part of town where there's a bump or a dip and you bottom out, then top out, then bounce for half a mile until things settle down. Not much ground clearance either.

Kia Rio looks good, but small, as is the Accent.

Larger Kias and Hyundais are larger, but not much bigger inside, and still low-riding.

Toyota Yaris: no. Not with four-speed automatics. And very small. Toyota Corolla: OK, but a more-expensive version of various Kia, Hyundai, and Nissan models.

If I go cheap, I'll likely pick a Nissan Versa Note, a redesigned version of the Nissan Versa sedan,d and a hatchback with a relatively giant back end. Relatively. You can get one for under $10K, but they're still small inside, have little ground clearance, and relatively small wheels. You get what you pay for, which is, on the good side, high fuel economy and a pretty decent vehicle for the price. Backup: Kia Soul or Hyundai Accent Hatchback.

Most likely to succeed: a Nissan Rogue, a relatively fuel-efficient SUV-styled vehicle with better interior space and decent ground clearance in the 7-inch range. And 17-inch wheels. And the fuel economy is better than the competitors, the Kia Sportage and Hyundai Tucson, which would be the backups. All in the $15K to $17K range, depending on mileage.

So geez — no idea yet. Buy cheap and be cramped but OK or spend 50% more and still be cramped, not get the mileage, but have better wheels and ground clearance for those times when driving on sketchy unpaved roads is the only way to get places.

In a way, no bad choices here, but nothing really stand out, except that it's impossible to find any vehicle which meets all my needs: small on the outside, huge on the inside, cheap but well-built, powerful but economical to drive, built low and sleek for minimum wind drag, but still riding high to handle rough roads.

At least I have both some halfway-decent vehicles to choose from, and, practically speaking all the money I need to get it.

So I guess I'm just whining and ringing my hands again.