The pandemic had us sheltering in place for the first half of 2020. Instead of our usual slow traveling lifestyle, we learned the ins and outs of being "monthlies" in a San Diego RV park. One mom and three kids living in an old 22 foot RV is a pretty crowded proposal, so we added an outdoor kitchen, a 10x10 canopy tent, and an outdoor school area. Slowly, we got to know the people that lived there most of the year: Jetty Eddie, the retired surf star. Chrissy, who sleeps by day and makes art by night. Vanessa, an accomplished, warmhearted pediatric oncology nurse with her two children. Little taciturn Brisa and her family from Costa Rica, who are crazy talented surfers and skateboarders. People from all walks of life.
When the summer vacationers start coming, the rental prices go up, so the regulars leave until September. The canopies come down one by one, the chairs, tables, and firepits get folded and loaded up with astonishing speed. Owners disconnect their trailers from water, sewer, electric, and cable TV. The big rigs retract their many slide-outs. Quick good-byes, shouts of "safe travels," and out they roll, towing cars, boats, bikes. Dogs and cats sit on the dashboard and calmly look through the windshield. It is a bit surreal and reminds me of "La rentree" a short story with the magical realism, I think authored by Garcia-Marquez.
Soon it was our turn to leave. We took a few days to break camp. We planted the veggies we had raised that spring in pots from seeds or cuttings, and we distributed the many treasures gifted to us while living at the campground: a small trampoline, a desk, some folding chairs, a helmet, an old skateboard, a scooter, and various other toys. Our foster baby crow Archie had not healed his wing yet, so we bought a cage to travel.
The kids and I always enjoy the exciting time before we travel on, we call it bug-out. Preparing for bug-out is our time to get organized, trim down, sift through our belongings, donate, and leave behind. After six stationary months, we had more stuff than usual. Our friend Maria joined us for the road trip up the coast, which gave us another car to load with two kayaks, four bikes, tents, gear, and a birdcage.
Once on the road, we only made slow progress due to engine trouble, and after four hours on the road, the RV broke down. She stalled on an exit ramp off Highway 101, but fortunately, I managed a downhill scoot without power steering or power brakes into a gas station. That is where we made a rather unusual acquaintance. George Michael is homeless, and this area is "his strip." He was panhandling at the gas station and approached me for a dollar. I told him I was focusing on my car trouble at the moment, and he immediately offered to help. He actually had a good ear to diagnose my engine troubles, and he shouted throttling and shifting instructions through my open window. With his help, I coaxed about a hundred more meters from the broken engine. Thus, we managed to move the RV to a safer place to wait and call AAA for roadside assistance.
We decided that the RV would get towed to a local repair shop and that we would continue the trip with Maria's car. We needed to switch loads between the RV and the car to make room for three additional passengers. The kayaks, the gear, the tents now got stashed into the RV. A few personal items were quickly stuffed into our daypacks to come in the car with us. The birdcage needed to come in the car as well. To shut off the propane on the RV, I cleared out the fridge and left 2 bags in one of the porticos of a closed IHOP restaurant, where I knew Michael George would find them later.
While we sat and waited on the tow truck, we chatted with the homeless man. We asked him how he ended up living on the streets. He pondered, then explained that because the kids were listening, he would pick the saga of a "sad love story." It was evident that he has a variety of reflective stories on his life, but it seemed he has no exit strategy. One of the challenges he shared was around not having an ID, due to not having an address. But, surprisingly, he did have a cell phone. He texted me that evening, telling me he had enjoyed a great dinner from our bags. He thanked me for treating him like a real person. He wrote that he misses his own family, and enjoyed my kids sitting with him and asking heartfelt questions as only children will.
The RV engine got fixed this week, and we returned south to pick it up. As we drove by the gas station, we looked but did not see George Michael working his strip. The kids remembered the helpful man living behind a gas station, and they told me that they enjoy it when our traveling adventures connect us with people from all walks of life.
About the author:
Born and raised in Europe, Insa is a world-schooling mom of three, a polyglot nomad, and a life & career coach. After decades of working for global corporations, she now explores the surprising revelations of a life adrift. She blogs on Kids on Walkabout.