Financial Breakdown

“When you have bought one fine thing you must buy ten more, that your appearance may be all of a piece; but Poor Dick says, 'tis easier to suppress the first desire than to satisfy all that follow it.” –Benjamin Franklin

I wrote down every penny that I spent this semester. I have never managed my money so meticulously, but I felt that if I wished to avert bankruptcy then I ought to vigorously monitor my expenses.

These are my monthly expenses:

Van costs and fees - $71

The van was in exceptionally good shape and I sincerely believe I got a great deal for it ($1,500). I barely drove the thing (apart from a trip down to Charlotte) and didn’t need one repair.

This category does not include the cost of the van (because I know I will get my money back if I ever sell it) but it does include paying someone to watch my seats and someone else to watch the van for the summer among other small fees.

Gas- $23

This number may mislead you into thinking my baby has good gas-mileage. It has terrible gas-mileage. Sometimes I could actually see the fuel gauge slowly pivot towards “E.” I made a point to drive it as little as possible to be both economical and eco-friendly. This average would have been even less if the bastard who sold it to me handed it over with more than a drop of gas in the tank.

Entertainment- $33

This category includes stuff I absolutely didn’t need, but wanted such as coffee ($14.75 in total), the fee to join the outdoors club, and costs related to my Appalachian Trail hike. This average was more than I anticipated; I figured that I’d do my best to have no entertainment costs but this changed when I realized that I needed to spend money if I wished to have some semblance of a social life.

Miscellaneous- $65

This was also much larger than anticipated. The parking permit was exorbitant ($91/semester) and things like the PO Box ($21), propane ($23), and laundry ($23) added up.

Food- $137 ($4.34/day)

I am most proud of this feat. For entire semester I bought just a couple drops of beer and I ate meat rarely. I ate healthily, enjoyed practically every meal, and I was able to sate my enormous appetite at a relatively low cost.

Car Insurance- $46

I at first thought about not getting insurance at all. But that was probably a bad idea. The seller wouldn’t sell me the car without insurance anyway.

Cell phone- $37

I dislike cell phones but knew from experience that having one was borderline necessary in some cases, like finding a job. I got the cheapest deal I could find, short of a pre-paid plan, which, I’ve found, ends up costing more in the long run.

Clothes/ Household appliances/ Random stuff- 0

I really ought to do an entry on my wardrobe. I’m wearing pants from the ninth grade. Yes—I’ll repeat that—the ninth grade. I have never bought a pair of underwear in my life. In fact, apart from a pair of gloves, I can’t even remember the last time I bought an article of clothing of any sort.

Total- $412/ month

Almost any American can make $412 a month. I worked somewhere between 15-20 hours a week, getting paid decently. I had little trouble coming up with the $412 plus my tuition payments and books which amounted to $2,455 for the semester. My tuition is so low because I went into school practically broke, so the financial aid department was kind enough to slash my tuition costs.

Now, for shits and giggles, let’s compare my costs with the average American’s. I have little statistical proof for the following estimates; they are merely my presumptions that I’ve based on personal experience and on what I’ve heard from other people.


Normal Living (per month)

Apartment-$450
Utilities-$100
Vehicle costs/repairs- $100
Gas- $75
Entertainment- $75
Misc- $75
Food- $200 (national average)
Car Insurance- $153 (national average)
Cell phone- $73 (national average)
Clothes/Household appliances/Random stuff- $100

Total: $1401


Radical Living (per month)

Apartment-0
Utilities-0
Vehicle costs/repairs-$71
Gas- $23
Entertainment- $33
Misc- $65
Food- $137
Car Insurance- $46
Cell phone- $37
Clothes/Household appliances/Random stuff- 0

Total: $412

Obviously these numbers are subject to vary per person. Fortunately, I didn't have a health issue, which could have increased my monthly average astronomically, as could have a number of other unpredictable variables. But all in all--I feel I've proven to myself that radical living works! And I can attest that I haven't melted into a depressed puddle of ooze because I did not possess an iPhone, a Wii, or whatever the latest must-have item is these days.

I hope this proves that I'm not crazy, but more than anything, I hope it prompts the question: what are you spending your money on?

Goodbye, dear friend

And so my first semester comes to end. Looking back, I’m quite pleased with my decision to return to school. My brain, for the first time since I graduated from my undergraduate college, feels sharp and exercised.

Because of my spartan lifestyle, I was able to make my tuition payments, pay for car insurance, gas, a cell phone, and food, while working less than twenty hours a week. These were the “necessaries” of my life, and I found that I could easily attain them with little money and without having to work long hours.

I must say that I lived in relative comfort. And each tribulation was greeted as a noble challenge, never as unwanted adversity.

I also thrived on the novelty and audacity of radical living. The risk I was taking, at first, was huge: I could have been kicked out my parking lot and off campus within a week if campus security wished it so. I suppose I’m quite proud of my courage to so openly expose myself to failure in hopes of achieving success.

There were drawbacks, however. If I had to identify three they might be:

1. Getting out of my sleeping bag on mornings when it was below 20 degrees.

2. Not having a couple of conveniences like an ironing board, or a readily available shower.

3. The loneliness of living in a van in a new town.

I'm not sure if my experience has taught me anything, but I can say it has reaffirmed what I’ve known all along: We need very little to be happy.

Now that the semester’s over, I’m moving back to Alaska for the summer to work as a backcountry ranger.

I decided that the best way to deal with the van was to find someone to take care of it while I'm gone. I’ve learned that you can find anybody to do almost anything you want on craigslist. I ended up paying someone in the country $200 to watch it for four months. A bit pricey, I know, but it was cheaper than having an actual storage company look over it.

Pictures of my cleaned-out van:




I’m currently in my hometown of Wheatfield, NY. Coming home after a long stretch of time is nothing new for me, so all these sensations have been experienced several times over. There’s always a mix of nostalgia, excitement, and slight depression. More than anything, I always end up suffering from desuetude, when suddenly the functioning of my body and brain are no longer necessary. My mother feeds me copious amounts of food, I end up watching movies and playing videogames until four in the morning, and I slowly undergo a metamorphosis, reverting back to myself of years ago, when--as a highschool student--I cared for nothing more than the success of the Sabres season and playing street hockey.

But this is just a temporary respite before I head to Alaska and greet a new set of adventures.

My first guest

I’ve now told eight of my fellow students about the van. I must say I do get some childish satisfaction from observing their reactions. These reactions, I’ve found, typically transpire in the following order:

1. Nervous laughter. Not sure how to respond, they go with this surefire “safe” response. Because “Are you fucking insane?” is no way to react to someone who just disclosed one of his most intimate secrets, they, instead, suavely hide their darker thoughts behind a colorful and harmless façade of giggles.

2. Solemn Contemplation. Because I seem sane and because I seem serious, it’s hard for them to reconcile a crazy act with a rational person. Soon their smile turns stern and I, no longer subject to their titters, become assailed with an unremitting fusillade of questions: Why are you doing this? Where is it parked? How do you go to the bathroom at night!?

3. Amazement and Envy. Reassured of both my veracity and rationale, they see the wisdom in my little experiment. They begin to question some of their own cultural customs and bad habits. A touch of envy is detectable; not necessarily because they now want to live in a van, but because they yearn for the courage to live boldly, and adventurously.

I got a bit tipsy from some wine served at an after-class gathering and I let slip my little secret to a rather staid and stodgy female classmate. I wished for nothing more than to frazzle her by thrusting this heretical thought into her neat little world. Then, as she stood aghast, I’d savor the reaction the same way a flasher would in front of a congregation of genteel southern baptists.

And I got just that. In fact, I got even more. Later on, I received a Facebook message from her telling me that she bought Walden and worries that I brainwashed her. My first acolyte? Maybe.

When I told Chuck—another classmate—about the van, he wasn’t nearly as stupefied, though he was quite intrigued. Chuck is a 46-year-old accountant-turned-student who just hiked all 2,175 miles of the Appalachian Trail last fall. Surely, he, if anyone, would appreciate a story about alternative living.

(Chuck feigning stupefaction upon seeing the inside of the van)

I gave Chuck a full tour of the van—my voluminous collection of cereal boxes, the laundry area, even the fabled wastebasket that I threw up in—yes, all of it. We discussed some of our favorite philosophical topics while slugging a can of Fosters.

It’s his theory that campus security knows all about me living in the van, but they just don’t care. I agreed that that might be the case, but I still feel that because vandwelling is so bizarre, they’d never entertain the idea in the first place.

Later on, I visited his condo where I pretended to be enchanted with the light switches and marvelous headspace.

I do feel a little nervous about news of the van getting around on campus. But the temptation to tell people is just too strong to resist… As long as people react as if I just told them I was from Mars, I will continue to divulge.

Will you be my neighbor?

I came across this van in my parking lot. I'm not sure whether to ridicule or envy him. That does look like some nice head-room...

A-Team

While attempting to take a nap, someone walking past the van—unaware that I was moments away from wafting into slumberland—remarked, “Isn’t this the van from the A-Team!?”

“What’s the A-Team?” I wondered. “And is that an insult or a compliment?”

It had to be a compliment, I decided. Who couldn’t help but admire the van for its robust frame and its classy cabernet sauvignon veneer? Or perhaps he wished he knew how it felt to rev the 10-mile-a-gallon, fuel-funneling beast that lurked under its hood.

Because his entourage responded to the question with uproarious laughter, I quickly gathered that he wasn’t lavishing my van with praise, but taking a cheap shot at it with some lewd 80’s pop-culture reference.

I later did a little researching on the A-Team.

Apparently, the A-Team was a hit 80’s TV show starring Mr. T who played B.A. Baracus.

He and three other ex-commandoes worked as hired mercenaries to fight crime. They also had a giant, creepy-looking van like mine, which performed dazzling stunts on their missions.

I wish I had known all this before.

Just imagine how scared shitless he would have been if I had responded--in my best Mr. T impression--"Quit your jibba jabba, sucka!"

Living in the van is sometimes a bit like being invisible. Because it’s unfathomable that somebody’s actually inside, passersby walk and talk past my bedroom window without a second thought.

For the most part, I have as much privacy as I need. But I do overhear the occasional comment.

One guy walking with his girlfriend said, “I want this van. It looks like a mushroom.” On a Saturday night some drunk stumbled face-first into the rear of my van. In another, more poignant case, a girl who was just dumped cried her eyes out on the curb next to me while her very faithful friend comforted her by ridiculing her ex.

Yet, unbeknownst to them, there’s a living being right next to them, listening in on their conversations. But I suppose it goes both ways. Perhaps others ambling past my van have heard a strange rattling of dinner pans or some midnight snores.

I suppose the moral of the story is: watch what you say when you cross a creepy looking van. You never know who's inside.