Based on the befuddled feedback and the “R U OK?” messages I’ve been getting from friends and family since I announced my intention to transition to living in a van, it seems that a “How does living in a van work?” post is in order. (I’ll save the question of why for another post.)

I’ve been watching van life YouTube videos every day for about six months now and therefore I’m an unassailable expert! OK, not yet, obviously. I haven’t spent a single night in a damn van yet. But thanks to the tens of thousands of van life enthusiasts before me, and their exhaustive videos, I have a strong foundation to work from. So, behold, the official Killing Batteries introduction, but not yet expert, to living in a van!

Space and comfort when living in a van

“Van life” immediately evokes images of cramped, uncomfortable spaces, like living in a submarine, but without the fear of a heinous death 500 feet underwater. (Usually.) There’s no denying the limited space part. It’s van. Even utilizing the best space-saving design techniques, you still only have between 300 and 400 cubic feet of space to work with, depending on the type of van (not including the cab area).

I should point out that apartments in Hong Kong are sometimes smaller than this, but it’s unquestionably a small space. One major advantage I know I already have before ever stepping foot in a van is that I’m a barely averaged sized American male, 5′-8” and 165 lbs., which makes the space limitations part of living in a van significantly easier. I’ll likely have fewer instances of knocking over smoothies and banging my head than larger and taller people.

One thing that long term travel has taught me repeatedly is that humans don’t actually need much space to be comfortable. I’ve lived in very small apartments in Romania and I’ve stayed in hotels where the bed took up 80 percent of the room. Was living in these conditions all champagne and rainbows? No, but I wasn’t miserable either. You get used to it and then it becomes normal and then you eventually wonder why the hell you thought you needed that 1,400-square-foot house you owned in the early aughts. Man, that thing was a pain to clean.

Where do you poop?

Why, in the van, of course! Yes, it happens literally inches from where you sleep and prepare smoothies, but I assure you it works fine. Not everyone enjoys in-van pooping amenities, but nearly everyone has some kind of pooping facilities, even if they’re just for emergencies.

The old Winnebagos and other RVs all used to have the dreaded “black water” tank, containing all your nasty human sewage. By all accounts, emptying a black water tank is… unpleasant, not to mention expensive. You can’t just dump that stuff anywhere, despite what you may have seen in movies.

But black water tanks take up precious space. You already have to carve out space for the clean and gray water tanks when you’re living in a van, so adding a third tank full of a stench that will knock a buzzard on its ass from 50 feet away if it ever leaks simply isn’t feasible. Thankfully, there have been advances in mobile toilet technology and you’ll be happy to hear that pooping in a van has never been less gross. (I mean, it’s still a little gross.)

Going into detail about all the types of toilets out there would require an entire blog post of its own. Maybe I’ll do that someday. For now, the speed round.

If the idea of going anywhere near your waste is a deal-breaker, you can opt for a cartridge toilet. It’s without question the least gross option, but those cartridges are going to end up in a landfill and van lifer philosophy leans toward the environmentally friendly side and so goes their toilet selections for the most part.

For those folks, there are composting toilets. These are far less gross than you’re imagining right now and shockingly non-stinky. By all accounts they’re relatively easy to empty and definitely the most environmentally-friendly solution.

There are chemical toilets, which are miniature porta-potties like the kind you see at parks, carnivals and music festivals. These don’t smell awesome, however, and you really don’t want something that smells even faintly bad when you’re living in a van. Also, emptying these things seem to be more unpleasant than the composting toilets.

Finally, there are the poor man’s options, which include the Nomadland-style bucket or a mini potty contraption, which you can unfold and then attached a plastic bag underneath. When you’re done you carefully, CAREFULLY, remove the toilet bag and toss it in the garbage or onto Mitch McConnell’s lawn, when convenient.

All that said, the common strategy seems to be to NOT use your toilet whenever possible. Van lifers become very adept at identifying free toilet opportunities, including gyms, parks, gas stations, restaurants and so forth.

When, if at all, do you shower?

Again, there are several options for people living in a van, depending on how much one prioritizes showers. Showers in vans are pretty common, but again they take up a lot of that precious space and, depending on your design choices, can be expensive to build.

Some vans have a dedicated little shower cabin, usually the same place where the toilet lives, but can also double as storage space (after you squeegee it dry). Others have a temporary shower, which usually involves unfurling a hidden shower curtain and hose from a cabinet, standing in a shower pan built into the floor and, hopefully, not splashing too much out into the rest of the van.

There are also some ingenious temporary shower designs out there, which I’m sure work great, but I’m a dedicated shower cabin guy, in case you were wondering.

Shower or not, many van lifers have gym memberships at popular chains, like Planet Fitness, which are surprisingly inexpensive, with an impressive number of locations across the US and other countries. That availability means van lifers can simply shower at the gym when there’s a location reasonably nearby. Some 24-hour gyms will even let you park in their parking lot overnight. (See more about parking below.)

But part of the van life allure is getting the hell out of urban environments. For these folks, they can find showers at campsites or they can opt for a so-called “bird bath,” using their van’s sink. Some van lifers will try to tell you something like “Actually, you don’t need to shower every day.” These people are obviously insane and cannot be trusted.

Another option for the nature enthusiasts is an outdoor shower. This usually involves some kind of retractable water hose coming from either their sink or extending out the back door of the van, which allows them to take outdoor showers. There are a number of privacy options here, usually involving draping a shower curtain over the doors, but it’s still showering outside, which can be iffy depending on the weather and a full-on bad idea if you’re in an urban area.

Water

As I mentioned above, most vans have two water tanks: the clean water tank and the gray water tank. The size of your clean water tank can vary widely and often depends on how much time one plans to spend off the grid. It’s not uncommon to have clean water tanks large enough that, when full, the van lifer can go up to a week or more without having to refill. Generally speaking, refilling stations and other water sources abound. However, I’ve seen that clean water sources in rain-starved regions are hard to come by, thus one has to buy water, which is still surprisingly cheap when you buy by the multi-gallon jug. Like just about everything else in this world, there are a few crowd sourcing apps that van lifers use to find and share clean water opportunities.

Food prep, storage when living in a van

Almost every van has some kind of food prep capabilities. Usually a sink and at least one electric or gas burner, but you can also find vans with surprisingly large refrigerators, microwaves and even ovens. The main obstacle here, like pretty much everything else in a van, is having enough horizontal space to make your meals.

There’s a whole sub-culture in van life that revolves around making meals with as few dishes as possible, like this one-cup smoothie maker, so you use minimal space and minimal water for clean-up.

Storage once again has to be balanced with space limitations. Depending on your van’s layout and, say, how much clothing you’re carrying, you may have tons of food storage. Others, usually those who have a year-round, exhaustive wardrobe, not so much. The short answer is frequent shopping trips. But if you don’t have an all-consuming devotion to neatness, you can cram food into all sorts of nooks and crannies in the van.

Sleeping in a van

There are two general categories of beds for vans: fixed beds and beds with some assembly required.

The beds that require assembly are great for space-saving, obviously. At night you have a serviceable bed, during the day that same area can be a workspace or smoothie-drinking lounge. However, many van lifers will sheepishly admit to keeping that space in bed formation for days or even weeks at a time, because they don’t feel like going through the sometimes complicated and time-consuming process of transforming the bed into living space and vice versa. There are also some people who will just collapse on the bench/couch and sleep on that narrow area, because they’re too tired to make the bed.

The fixed beds take up a lot of space, but there’s always a bed there and that’s what some people prefer. These are often the crazy people who somehow work in bed, which I have never understood. How do they not get sleepy?

The fixed bed folks also seem to be the same people who have bikes or some other bulky outdoor equipment stored in their “garage.” (The rear of the van, usually under the bed or benches or what have you.) People who need big garages tend to have fixed beds, because having a modular bed means losing that garage space.

What I find puzzling is how few people have Murphy beds. This seems like the ideal compromise. The area can be used during the day for work and then, bam, you lower the already made bed and you can go right to sleep without spending five minutes constructing the bed and then putting on the sheets and so on. If you hadn’t already guessed, I’m planning to install a Murphy bed in my van.

How do you get internet when living in a van?

There are a multitude of ways to get decent internet when living in a van. Not awesome, usually, but decent.

The easiest solution is to turn your phone into a hot spot and, ta da!, you’re online. The drawbacks of this approach are you have to cope with slow internet speeds and in most cases there’s a monthly bandwidth limit. Once you exceed that, your internet is throttled back to a speed that makes almost anything but basic web browsing impossible.

People who use their phones a lot will often install a cell phone signal booster, since cell service can be iffy in places, even in urban areas. This will turn one bar into three or four bars, so you can still work when you’re in the middle of a state park or whatever.

You can also buy a dedicated hotspot. These usually have very high or even unlimited download caps, so you can play Fortnite and watch as much Netflix as you like. The speeds vary, but they seem to do the trick for most internet tasks, short of uploading giant video files.

Wi-fi range extenders are also a popular item. If you find open/free wi-fi, but you can’t park your van right next to the building these allow you to maintain a fast and consistent connection from across the parking lot.

Where do you park?

Most van lifers will not hesitate to admit that nine times out of 10, they end up parking their vans in decidedly un-Instagram-worthy places. Lots of big chains allow overnight parking in their lots, Walmart being the most ubiquitous.

If you have the water/electricity/internet resources to live off-grid for extended periods, you can chose from a wide variety of campsites and even sometimes one of those beautiful vistas that shysters love to post on Instagram while trying to sell their van life courses. There are plenty of these fairy tale parking spots, but they tend to have pricey fees, so if you haven’t budgeted for that you’re mostly going to be in utilitarian campsites or the aforementioned parking lots.

Some van lifers do a lot of “stealth parking,” meaning they park overnight in places where, strictly speaking, you’re not allowed to park a live-in vehicle. People who do this discreetly can usually get away with it, but you always run the risk of a late-night door knock from the police, usually summoned by a nearby, busybody homeowner who has decided you’re a drug runner or kidnapper.

Is it safe?

Let’s just say that that living in a van isn’t unsafe. Like anything in life, there are risks and there are plenty of ways to mitigate those risks. If you want to go down that rabbit hole, I recommend seeking out videos made by the countless solo, female van lifers.

Most van lifers have a recurring nightmare that someone ransacks their van while they’re on a hike or something. I’ll be doing a full post about security in the future, but there are a number of high tech and old school options that will keep you, your belongings and your van safe from intruders.

What about health insurance?

That this is even a question, never mind a popular question, is just the one millionth sign of how the US has comprehensively failed in the realm of healthcare. It’s a global embarrassment. And the answer is way too involved to address here.

My plan is to research how/if MinnesotaCare will cover me if I get sick or injured far from home. It seems like US healthcare, as broken as it is, should cover you if you seek medical attention in another state, but I’m prepared to be disappointed. If it comes to that, I’ll definitely be writing a post about healthcare options for nomadic Americans.

How much are those vans, anyway?

This is a big question and the answer depends on several factors. How fancy/comfortable do you want your van to be? Do you want a new van or are you OK with a used one? Will you be paying an expert to build out the van or are you going to do it your dumb, unqualified self, which always seems to result in great/hilarious video content?

The low end prices can be surprisingly low. If you buy a used van, do your own build and don’t need anything fancy, you can probably get a van for under $10,000. However, these vans tend to be weekend and short-trip vans, not vans one lives in full time.

If you want something new, built by an expert, with every comfort and convenience available, you’re looking at $150,000 or more.

Is it like Nomandland?

For some people it is. Like the movie suggests, these people aren’t always living in a van by choice. Some people thrive in this lifestyle, others are crushed by loneliness. It all depends on your circumstances.

I still have questions

If you have any other questions about van life, please leave them in the comments. I will do my best to answer them, either with another comment or editing this post to answer that question or, if the topic is large enough, write a standalone post.