Nomads rest book of travels5/31/2023 “If I’m going to be alive, there’d better be a reason, and this is the reason. With a desperate plea to a higher power, he finally found the will to bear the pain by being of service and building a community. “Why am I alive when my son isn’t?” he asked himself obsessively. After the devastating loss of his eldest son in 2011, he was plagued by despair and, for the first time, suicidal thoughts. Rather, he’s driven by a quieter demon-cum-angel. He doesn’t like the term “follower” and definitely doesn’t want to be thought of as a guru. His most popular video, Living in a Car on $800 a month, has more than 4m views.įame, however, isn’t Bob’s jam. With 460,000 subscribers, the videos are also making him money via ad and affiliate sales. Whether he’s sharing a philosophical exploration, as in Why I Live in a Van, or explaining the mechanics of Pooping in a Car, Van, or RV, Bob’s videos are a prized free resource, making him a beloved celebrity in the nomad community. The event’s explosive growth is undoubtedly a reflection of America’s increasing interest in van life as an answer to the affordable housing crisis, an idea made accessible by Bob on his YouTube channel, also named Cheap RV Living, created in 2015. Eight years later, an estimated 10,000 vehicles convened for what was said to be the largest nomad gathering in the world. He dubbed it the Rubber Tramp Rendezvous (RTR), and in January 2011, 45 vehicles showed up. Finding himself at the center of a growing online community, he decided to create a meet-up in Quartzsite, Arizona. He posted tips and tricks about better vehicle-dwelling, but what he was really offering was a road map to a better life.įour years later, when close to 10 million Americans were displaced after the Great Recession, traffic to his site exploded. ![]() Realizing he had something valuable to share, he bought the domain name Cheap RV Living in 2005. He started working only 32 hours a week, and since every weekend was a three-day weekend, he spent more time camping with his kids, which “tremendously helped” his mental outlook on life. As his finances improved, he installed insulation, a proper bed, even a dream-come-true PlayStation fortress for his boys. Then came the first of the month, and something clicked: he didn’t have to pay rent. He gave his landlord notice that night, threw a sleeping pad in the back of his new home, and cried himself to sleep. One day, fretting about impossible finances, he saw a green box van for sale and thought: “Why don’t I buy that van and move into it?” The idea struck him as crazy, but with the prospect of homelessness closing in, he drained the last $1,500 in his savings account and bought the van that was just “too ratty-looking” for its previous owner. After paying alimony and child support, he was taking home $1,200 a month, $800 of which went towards rent.īob Wells: by his own telling, he was the living embodiment of Thoreau’s ‘quiet desperation’. Then, when he was 40 years old, the divorce happened. He knew he wasn’t happy, but it never occurred to him to live differently.Īfter all, this was the American dream, right? By his own telling, he was the living embodiment of Thoreau’s “quiet desperation”. As days became decades, he went to a job he hated, worked with people he didn’t like, to buy things he didn’t want. He worked as a union clerk at the same Safeway where his father had worked until retirement, only to die two years later.īob didn’t want his father’s fate, but there he was. ![]() His life mission is to promote nomadic tribalism in a car, van or RV as a way to prevent homelessness and live more sustainably.ī efore becoming a nomad in 1995, Bob lived in Anchorage, Alaska, with his wife and two boys. Today, he lives exclusively on public lands in his GMC Savana fitted with 400 watts of solar power and a 12-volt refrigerator. Bob helped April to adopt the nomad way of life and change her life in the process. “If the Great Recession was a crack in the system, Covid and climate change will be the chasm,” says Bob Wells, 65, the nomad who plays himself in the film Nomadland, an early Oscar contender starring Frances McDormand. ![]() It’s not surprising, then, that job loss, divorce or, say, the sudden onset of a global health or financial crisis can push so many over the edge. April and Cliff, a veteran nomad, camped next to each other on Bureau of Land Management lands.
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