The Sketch Factor

A few days ago I was sitting in Sheila’s front seat in a Transit Center parking lot, picking dirt out of my hair while eating a pepperoni taco, and something hit me. Not literally- even though I did getattacked by a bird on the sidewalk earlier that day (and I mean attacked- it chased me down the road trying to bite my head. I had to run away. I’m still traumatized). No, I had a realization. I looked down at my taco, then out the window at the families walking by on their way to dinner, and the bikers loading their gear into their trunks, then back down at my taco, and it hit me- I’m that person. I’m the sketchy lady in the back of the parking lot. I’m the one that people look at and wonder “what is she doing sitting in her car with no shoes on eating dinner?” I no longer blend in with the crowd. I’m an outsider. 

And this is where I differ from most people- I wasn’t disappointed with this realization at all. In fact, I loved it. I actually laughed out loud. Because it finally hit me that this is exactly where I belong. I was born to be on the outside. I always loved being a little different from everyone else, whether it was my clothes, or my hobbies, the music I listened to, or the car I drove. I never wanted to fit in. And I never had a problem with my own company. To me, fitting in was always boring, and I was happier reading or writing or just entertaining myself. I was always a weirdo. I just never knew exactly what kind of weirdo I was.. but now I think I’m finally figuring it out.

But being on the outside, in particular the van life, comes with a few.. interesting elements as well. And these elements combined are what I like to call the “sketch factor.” The things that make living in a van the type of lifestyle that toes the line between socially acceptable, and a little sketchy. Or at least my version of it does. Here are a few parts of the van life that have contributed to my own personal sketch factor. 

First of all, no matter what you do, cooking dinner in a parking lot will never look normal. You could be cooking a fillet mignon and sitting down to eat with your great-grandmother’s nicest hand-painted china, but if you’re doing it in a camp chair outside a Walmart, it still looks sketchy as hell. And that’s been a tough one for me to accept. When I first moved into the van, I used to close all the shades and sit in the way back to eat meals so no one could see me. But look how far I’ve come. Now I’m eating dinner outside in the parking lot with the doors open, putting my feet up and waving to mr. and mrs. smith as they drive by in their Honda CRV with their full load of groceries. But for some reason they never wave back.. strange. 

Second is that you’re always dirty. Or at least I am. I got Sheila so that I could hike as much as I wanted in as many beautiful places as I could find. But hiking comes with dirt. And camping comes with dirt. And while I have a working shower, something about living alone in a vehicle makes me much more inclined to wait until I am borderline embarrassed to go out in public to actually use it. As a result, I’m usually walking around with some type of dirt on my clothes, or in my hair, or normally just everywhere- which makes me look a little sketchier than your average pedestrian. 

But in my opinion, the biggest part of the sketch factor is that living in a van usually means you’re on a budget- which means that you are always on the lookout for cheap or free stuff. Whether it’s water hookups, or discount grocery stores, or large dumpsters that are unlocked to discard your trash, cheaper is always better. I’ve become a huge fan of Grocery Outlet Bargain Market- that place is my shit. But sometimes, cutting costs takes you down to places you never thought you would stoop.. like pocketing wads of toilet paper from public bathrooms, or taking the tiny shampoo bottles from the baskets in hotel rooms. Not that I’m saying I did this.. I’m ust writing for a friend… but hey, you do what you have to do when you’re living that low-budget lifestyle. The bug screens for my van doors are made out of velcro and toole, and I close all my valves with a can of PB Blaster and a 2-dollar rubber mallet from Walmart because they stick but I’m too cheap to fix them. Plus I do all of these low-budget fixes in the parking lots of the stores I buy them from. And trust me, you’ve never felt sketchier in your life than when you’re laying in a puddle of old coffee in the back of a Walmart parking lot hammering a valve closed with a rubber mallet while the shopping cart guy gives you a weird look as he swerves the entire row of carts around your outstretched legs. 

But the point is, when you’re living in your vehicle, some things that used to seem out of the question, way too sketchy, things you would never otherwise do- now don’t seem quite as crazy. It forces you to revisit norms- societal, social, normal hygiene and eating habits; and really makes you reconsider how much you care about what other people think. But in my opinion, that’s the greatest thing about this lifestyle. Of course I love the adventures, the beautiful places I’ve been and am going to go; of course I love the freedom and the independence that it offers me; but the part of this experience that I think will stay with me for the rest of my life, and the part that will have the largest impact on the type of person I will become, is the way that van life is already teaching me that being an outsider is ok. That being weird, or being awkward, or sketchy, or even normal; that whoever you are, just being yourself is not only ok, it’s beautiful. Why should we concern ourselves with the opinions of random strangers? Why do we avoid singing in public, or skipping down the street, or wearing crazy clothes, just because we are worried about being judged by people who we will most likely never speak to, never see again, and certainly not be asking for their opinion on our fashion choices? And I’m not saying that to feel fulfilled and happy you have to wear crazy clothes, or live in a van- believe me, it’s not a lifestyle that would work for everyone. But what I am saying, is don’t be afraid to be who you are. And don’t be afraid to let others see it. Because life is too short to be anyone other than exactly who you are. And if who you are is a little outside the norm- well, welcome to the club. Maybe you should consider a van. 

And if you do decide on the van life, and you want to catch up with Sheila and I, you know where to find us- we’ll be off somewhere screwing up. So until next time.

“I like weird people. The black sheep, the odd ducks, the rejects, the eccentrics, the loners, the lost and forgotten. More often than not, these people have the most beautiful souls.” -Unknown