Jackie Fleming

ON HOW SHE MANAGES THE "NESTING INSTINCT" AMID A NOMADIC AND FREE-SPIRITED LIFESTYLE

From Mammoth Lakes, California, Jackie Writes: 
Yes, my car is my home, but also my friend. Sometimes (after road trips of 10 hours a day in the car) it feels like she's my best friend. Yes, she. And her name is Kofi. Maybe it sounds pathetic, like I dont have real friends, but that's not the reason I've bonded with Kofi so strongly. It’s more of an adaptation that helps me stay sane. If I didn't regard Kofi as a friend, it would be a lot more lonely on those long road trips, sleeping by myself in the car in the middle of nowhere in a turnout. But when I set out on the highway for a long drive, I may not have actual conversation with anyone else all day, and it helps me to give her a loving rub on the dashboard and say: "Here we go, just you and me girl.”

The nesting effect is manifested in the fabrics that adorn the dashboard, accented with sticks, driftwood, and shells. Scarves are wrapped around the two front seats, necklaces hang from the rearview mirror, and a string of shells stretch from one sunblind to another near the top of the windshield. Practical? Maybe not…

I've had some trouble with state customs stations, coming into California from another roadtrip, and being asked by the customs agent to please discard the sticks from my dashboard, as there is a ban on bringing in vegetation of any kind. I've politely refused to do so each time, and somehow managed to convince them that the sticks that have lived on my dashboard for two years are there to remind me of the Gingko Tree on my college campus in Pennsylvania from which they originated, and will not pose any risk of spreading disease for vegetation in California…

Or when I bring my car into an auto shop for whatever servicing she may need. When the job requires any kind of access from the inside, the mechanics indicate a general sentiment of "how am I supposed to access anything under all the crap on the dashboard, or all the crap that simply occupies every available surface, footwell and nook of the car's interior?"

The back of my car is the bedroom, living room, dining room, kitchen, office, and storage facility. With the seats folded down it really feels like my own dirtbag apartment, which is problematic because living in an actual apartment provides a lot more space than the back of a hatchback car. Thus, peeking into the back of my car you would find all my cooking supplies mixed with items of clothing, shoes, climbing equipment, camping equipment, food, etc. At least that's how it was before I was convinced to buy bins to manage the disaster that is the back of my car.

Bins, I've conceded, are a must. Even though I haven't yet incorporated as many as I should, the two that I finally bought have still made a huge difference in containing all my food and providing a kind of dirtbag pantry for my car. I should have taken the cue on bins long ago, from all the dirtbags who are far wiser and more experienced with living out of their car than I am. 

Yes, many dirtbags are well organized. Some even make it seem like an art form, such as those who build full organizational systems for their truck bed, from sleeping platform to shelves, drawers and even toothbrush-holders. This would unfortunately not be the case for me. Though I love to decorate my little home, I do not relish the job of keeping it clean and organized. It seems the more clutter that occupies the car, the more cozy it feels to sleep in a cleared space amongst it, a veritable nest of all my belongings surrounding me. Nesting in my car provides a feeling of emotional safety, the confidence that i can travel anywhere and have everything I need with me. Though, of course, I may not be able to find it...