Nerd Nomad

This morning, I woke up to this scene outside my window:

It’s a horrible picture, but that’s Morro Bay, the rock and bay are a stones throw away.

The most common question I’ve gotten when I tell people I’m moving permanently (as in, for a year or more) into an RV is probably, “Why?”  This question is closely followed in popularity by “Where are you going?” and “How are you going to work on the road?”

So, I thought I’d answer the most popular question in my first post. Why am I doing this? Why move out of a ~1000 square foot house in a nice neighborhood in the nice little city of Mountain View, CA and into a ~250 square foot rattletrap of a house on wheels? There isn’t a single overwhelming feature of this lifestyle that made the decision for me, but altogether they added up to a compelling argument.

“Well, you’ve always wanted to do that.”

Nearly everyone I told about my plans in December (before I’d bought the RV) responded with questions. But, when I told my parents on my last visit to Georgia, the first words my mom said were, “Well, you’ve always wanted to do that.”

And it’s true. I have on several occasions in my life looked around and thought, “I wish I could just buy a van and hit the road.” Something always prevented me from doing it; usually money or responsibilities of some sort.

So, reason #1 for wanting to do this is that I’ve always wanted to do this. It’s tautology, I guess, but it’s just the way things are. I don’t know why I’ve always wanted to drive across the country, for as long as I can remember. I just have. Blame it on the oldies station I used to listen to while drifting off to sleep each night when I was, perhaps, seven. I loved the Dion song The Wanderer. I grew out of listening to oldies (mostly), but never got over wanting to drive across the country.

Location, Location, Location

In real estate, three things matter, and I have very high standards for the location in which I live. Mountain View, while a very nice little town, simply wasn’t satisfying now that my company is beyond its larval stages and I now have time for a normal social life. I spent a few months searching, unenthusiastically, for a place in San Francisco. I have a few friends there, most of whom I met through Y Combinator, and it has a reasonable music scene, and it’s close enough to Silicon Valley so I could continue to attend as many startup/entrepreneurial events as I could stomach.

But, rents are even higher in San Francisco than in Mountain View, and renting a house by myself isn’t really an option. I also have a pretty big dog, reducing the available apartment options down to almost nil. All the additional threatening terms and such attached to most ads (must have recent credit report, first and last months rent plus huge deposit, plus pet deposit, long application, etc.) just made me feel grouchy, so my searches were half-hearted, at best. Even worse, perhaps, the weather in Mountain View was beginning to be depressing. Short, wet, cold, dark days, for the past few months added up to a very unhappy Joe. San Francisco is even colder, darker, and wetter than Mountain View…so, one of the reasons for my discontent would be even worse if I moved there.

Now, I live wherever I can find a spot big enough to park. And there’s a lot of parking in America. On the first three days I lived in my RV, I parked on University Ave. in Palo Alto, surrounded by mansions and within easy walking distance of downtown. I wouldn’t want to sleep parked on University (constant fast traffic, so there’s a lot of noise), but I crashed with my friend Kiki who lives over on Hamilton a few blocks away. If I were actually sleeping in the RV in Palo Alto, I’d park it on Hamilton or one of the other less-trafficked streets.

A quick aside about parking an RV: People often ask where it’s legal to park an RV. And the answer is, generally, “Wherever you can park your car, I can park my RV; as long as it fits, doesn’t obstruct signage or right of way, and doesn’t spill into another space where spaces are marked.” The law in most of California is that vehicles under 45 feet and used for non-commercial purposes can park anywhere any other consumer vehicle can park.

Physics dictates I won’t be pulling my 33′ class A motorhome into a compact spot at the mall, or into any parking garage, but parking on a suburban neighborhood street is usually pretty safe and painless, and nearly always legal. I’m still a little iffy on the legality of using my leveling jacks (so I can run the propane fridge) in neighborhoods and such, so more research is needed there. I’ve been parking and leveling in neighborhoods for two weeks now without complaint or citation, including on high traffic streets like University, so I guess it’s not too problematic. There’s also the issue of sleeping in the vehicle once parked, which is almost certainly not legal in some localities.

I have a theory that police and the general public tend to think of RVers in nice new looking coaches as wealthy old folks (which is true often enough to make the stereotype useful; I’m parked in an RV park currently, and at least 90% of the residents I’ve seen or talked to are retired white folks), and thus extremely unlikely to knowingly break the law, so I vaguely suspect that due to the relative niceness of my RV I can get away with more than I could if I were in an older vehicle. This is a theory I’ll revisit if I find myself on the receiving end of citations for creative parking.

I Love Traveling, but I Hate Flying

I’ve always hated flying, but since 9/11 the security theater in the US has become absurd. Every time I fly there are new regulations, new hassles, new reasons and means for dehumanizing passengers and treating them like cattle, and new excuses for airlines to delay flights (maybe I just have really bad luck, but I haven’t had a flight without delays, usually hours long, in nearly three years). I don’t feel safer because of it, I just feel a constant mild discomfort at how cowardly I and my fellow Americans are that we need and quietly accept such outrageous procedures in order to feel like our government is protecting us.  I ought to be downright angry at how poorly I’m treated at airports, but I usually just feel tired and defeated. Since I don’t like feeling tired and defeated, I’ve avoided flying for the past several years as much as possible, mostly limiting my travel to northern California destinations.

I also like to bring my dog when I travel. She loves travelling, as well, and is a lot of fun to have at the beach, hiking, etc. She’s usually sociable (though she doesn’t like strangers touching her), particularly with other dog owners, so she tends to lead to more conversations and me meeting more new people, which is probably a good thing.

I Need to be a Sales Guy

The final reason is that I need to start selling my company’s products, in person, at trade shows, and all the time. I need to talk face-to-face with our existing customers to find out how we can build better products, and serve their needs more effectively. And, I need to be talking to potential customers to find out why we aren’t their first choice.

I’m still involved in our technology, and always will be,  but a mature product needs sales people, and I’m probably the best person for that role right now.

That’s my house, with my very fine canine Gidget sitting on the dash.

The Loophole

So, the RV loophole is that I get to travel, live in some of the best places in America, bring my dog, keep working, and most of the time I can do it much more cheaply than living in Mountain View. In my next few posts, I’ll go over the costs involved in living as I now live, and what sacrifices I’ve made to fit into this small space. I’ve never blogged very regularly on the Webmin blog, but I plan to post extremely regularly here.

You should also follow me on Twitter, because I just posted a picture of a seal I saw this morning on the beach. It was awesome.