You might worry that your vigilance has waned. At what degree is alert protectiveness sufficient, you wonder. You have your weapons placed strategically and your body speaking tough language. Could that be enough to allow you to pee in broad daylight in a desert campground?

Yep. Against the car and between the doors, but anybody looking would have known. i did this out of necessity and confidence. i imagined if someone said, “You know we can see you?” i’d reply, “Not if you don’t look.”

And here’s the thing: actually so very few people are interested in fucking with others. For every friend’s horror story—there are uncomfortably plenty—i would wager there are at minimum ten significantly less noteworthy nights spent on the road. Correct me if i’m wrong, for real.

In a snowstorm at a truck stop i parked first, soon accompanied by a van on my passenger side, gladly blocking some wind. Later an economy car came to join me on the left. In the morning the skies blued and the ice dripped; i’d been parked nearly 20 hours, these others each more than fifteen. The van was from Québec, the car: New York. Maine nestled nicely in between. We all smiled at each other and never spoke. i was the first to leave.

At a rest stop one night that feels like forever ago now—at least 2,000 miles—i posted up in the fourth and furthest spot from another car that was clearly there for the night. After i was all settled, a pickup truck with a homey cap took the middle space. The driver, closest to me, started saying what they were gonna carry and “Could you grab..” things. Another voice said something and the first voice gave a hushed, “Oh!” i didn’t hear either voice again as they settled in.

In the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) campground where i’ve been the past couple of nights, there was a group out at one site with a sweet sound system playing Bon Iver, Tom Petty, Enigma (Return to Innocence! When was the last time you heard that song?!) and Ray Charles. Somebody found a mic and greeted the campground, “It’s karaoke night in Willow Springs! Get out of your vans and come hang by our fire, we don’t care if you can sing!” This was, to me, both uproariously hilarious and completely unnerving. Y’all what. Turns out it was a joke and they just played more random, epic music until nightfall. The last song was Rob Zombie’s Dracula, at 8PM.

As of this evening i have been parking to sleep in strange places for twenty-one days and nights. i am grateful, and must admit my relief, at the lack of events to report. Nonetheless, each of my weapons is placed strategically at all times. i walk—and pee!—like no one can touch me. i am also friendly all the time, including in the simplest ways: respect and trust extended to strangers.