This 1960s-era Chrysler station wagon has been given a remarkable DIY residential conversion. It isn't used for weekend trips; the owner lives in it full time. That explains why there are so few windows, and why there's a big skylight on the roof -- fewer street-level windows means far more shelter from prying eyes. (Front view)
We've seen this car a lot over the years, and we've noticed that it moves frequently, but never far, within the waterfront district.
There's long been a community of quasi-homeless folk who live in a motley assortment of repurposed vehicles parked amid the industrial ruins of San Francisco's eastern waterfront. In 2003, the San Francisco Chronicle profiled Cynthia Johnston, 54, one of the city's 2,000+ "vehicularly housed" residents. Johnston was keeping a journal, and here's a typical entry:
Friday, Jan. 4, 2002
Having squeezed the last moment of sensuous supine surrender out of the morning, I sat up and rolled up the bedroom blackout curtains. The front window was wearing a veil of wet fog.
Put water on to boil. Damn, it's cold. Wrap my Polarfleece scarf around my neck while the heat from the burner warms up the room. Take down the blackouts in the kitchen and dining areas and finally the back door to let in the pale sunlight. All the windows are covered with a wet sheet of fog. Through the windows I see the watery shapes of all the campers and vans lined up on both sides of these rare two blocks of what's left of Frisco, on Florida between 18th and 19th. The wild and woolly side of San Francisco, where artists and other poor people live, albeit in their vehicles.
Mobile homeless: One woman's account of living on the streets of San Francisco in her camper-truck (San Francisco Chronicle, March 2, 2003): LINK
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