I bought my car, a teenage Subaru with three hubcaps and two working windows, because I knew I could stretch out in the back. I tried it before I bought it, popped the hatch and lay down in front of the confused owner. “I’m pretty tall,” I said, as he gave me sideways eyes, “I just have to check.”
That summer, I moved down to the Front Range from the mountains and on weekends I couldn’t get myself out of the city fast or often enough. I was trying to pretend I was still a raft guide, in denial about my sort-of-real job. On Fridays I’d head down 287, toward the Arkansas River, where my friends were living semi-vagrant lives in tents and the backs of old buses. Sometimes I’d have to pull over and sleep on Forest Service roads on the way, sometimes I’d make it to town late, pull the Subie up in the tent village, and pop the hatch.
You sleep light in the back of a vehicle, because there’s always the chance someone might be looking at you, even when you’re 19 miles up a lonely dirt road. Actually, that’s when it’s the worst, because the people in your head when you’re out there are the real creepers. I feel more exposed in my car than I do in a tent. The glass seems more permeable than nylon.
But there’s freedom there, too, if you can shake the paranoia. When you’re camping in your car you have ground speed, ease of movement, zero set up time. You can drive until you get tired and then stop. It doesn’t really matter if you made it.
When you set up your tent, you’re making a statement, you’re there for the night, you’ve arrived. You park your car, you could be gone any time, maybe you’re just closing your eyes for a minute. You can sleep in your car in far more obvious places – Walmart lots, for instance – than you can camp. Especially in the West, where so much land is public, you’ve got options.
You can fit two people in the back of a vehicle, sometimes three, but one is ideal. I learned that halfway between Moab and the Grand Canyon, in the corner of Utah that’s all Indian reservation and empty sandstone. Past midnight we stopped for gas, then pulled over up the next dirt road, popped the hatch, got into our sleeping bags. We spent four uncomfortable hours with our knees in each other’s shins, then gave up and got back on the road before dawn.
I hadn’t tested the back for two people, because I hadn’t really needed to. If you’re traveling with someone else, you usually have a plan, somewhere to sleep, someone to set up a tent with. It’s not as easy to fill up your coffee cup and drive into the night, figuring that you’ll figure it out when your eyes get heavy. As a girl it’s sort of scary to strike out solo, but it makes more sense.
So I’ve learned that I sleep best in the back of my car alone, with people I know around me. Destinations are ideal: no stress, no imaginary creepers of the lonely road. One night before putting on Cataract Canyon, I rolled into Potash late, after the rest of the crew had already rigged the trip. I pulled in between the boats, the Colorado slipping at the beach behind me. I’d packed the trunk full of real beer in Fruita – my contribution to the trip – so I dragged my dry bag and enough cases of PBR to make space for my body out of the back, then curled up in my mummy bag. I slept hard.
Photo by Justin Housman
Here are some of our preferred ways to make sleeping in the car way better
The NEMO Roamer is about as comfy as sleeping pads get; well, at least the kind that can fit into any car. $230, and worth every penny.
Want a down pillow that rivals any you might have at home? Sea to Summit has you covered with the Aeros. Spring for the large and don’t look back. $70
We love the Luno Life custom air mattress system. If they make one that fits your car, give it a try. $225.
Good. So when I was in the Subaru dealership, put the seats down, climbed in the back and laid down, I wasn’t being weird! I’m pretty tall, you have to check!
Hotel Matrix:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/thegrapes/4876049411/in/photostream
I *hate* sleeping/camping on logging roads too. Sometimes it’s a necessary evil. If you’re going to run into a nut job in the ‘backcountry’ that’s where it’ll happen. I guess I just feel vulnerable. Give me a bear ridden tract of solitude and a tent any day of the week.
I’ve been a Suby nomad for years. I do bring a tent, but a poncho liner and pillow in the back of the Outback have saved me from pushing on where I might have nodded off and wrecked too many times. I have figured out a thing or two:
1) Only the wider part of the rear seat goes down, this makes it a lot easier to get out. As you slide into the seat and out the door
2) Hang the keys and a powerful flashlight from the Ceiling within reach. That Car alarm button will get the bears running. It will also draw attention if you are in a parking lot And have some shady person walk up on you.
3)I have a sleep kit with an Exped Downmat7, backpack quilt, army wool blanket, wool hat & socks and mosquito netting for the windows. I can sleep warm in almost any weather.
yeah…the back of my VW golf isn’t so roomy. I usually have to leave the hatch open to get any decent shut eye. I need a longer car!
My boyfriend and I are planning a December trip to NV, AZ and UT. We are renting either a minivan or SUV specifically for that purpose!
A Vibe is my adventure wagon – great reliable mileage, and sleeps absolutely flat. RoadTripper screened vent awnings, a Ryobi cordless fan to keep you cool, and you’ve got a comfortable night crash!
I passed my Chevy Trailblazer Ext along to my daughter, but not before I had spent MANY nights sleeping in it; on trips, at horse shows, and as a great alternative to a leaky tent or noisy neighbors! I love my Toyota Rav 4, but I’m not going to be doing any sleeping in there!
What’s the deal with the Westy photo, but the whole story is about a Subaru? I sleep just fine in my Westy. I guess it is a luxury, just wish I had a Subaru motor in it.
The story is about sleeping in your rig, not just Subarus.
i bought a ford escape in houston and drove it back to seattle alone over a weekend. definitely made use of the walmart parking lot somewhere in clovis, NM. the back was just barely long enough to stretch out a bit but i forgot to pack my sleeping bag and was too cold in just my clothes with the car off. opted to keep driving instead of sleeping and made it all the way to twin falls, idaho before finally getting a room for the night.
agreed – sleeping in cars is creepy. even for guys.
I used to sleep in my 79 Rabbit all the time. I pulled on a car cover and had a private hotel room. Even had a little Sony Watchman.
Nothing beat my 1989 Saab 900s! Fold down the rear seats, lay out sleeping bag, pop side windows, sleep like a baby! Instead of logging roads, I would hit the rest areas on Vermont’s route 89 after a long weekend of skiing the Mad River Valley. Nothing like an hour power nap!
I’ve spent many wonderful months on the road sleeping in the back of my Subaru Outback (also as a solo female). This article nails it 🙂 I got so good at converting the back from bedroom to nothing-to-see-here in a matter of minutes. Hopefully I get to live on the road again soon!
If the knees are hitting the shins…
You’re doing it wrong…
mmm…that story makes me smile.
Hotel Matrix! LOL. I love my Matrix. Very roomy for a small car. My next adventure vehicle will be a converted Ford Econoline. That way more than one person can “van camp” in comfort.
I’ve never tested a car for lying down in it, but for the last two cars I bought, I brought a bike with me and made sure I could put it in, standing up with the front wheel off. I still remember the depressed look of a salesman when the bike didn’t fit into one car.
Thanks, great article.
There’s a years-long forum on thenewx.org dedicated to ways to rig and sleep in the back of your Xterra. Great stuff.
Love it! Love hearing a lady’s perspective. I laid down in the back of my teenage Subie before I bought it, too. Now I’m living in a van…there’s nothing like it! Such a joy.
Touché, Sinuhe.
funny, i do a reverse commute from the author and sleep in my car 3- 4 nights a week. i live in salida and work in denver. i drive up once a week, work a few days and then drive back. my “bivy” of choice is a toyota matrix. it’s just big enough to sleep in comfortably but so small that no one imagines it’s possible!
Two years ago, I spent 6 weeks out west skiing as my retirement gift to myself. I had connections and AirBnB’s for ski areas, but slept in the back of my VW Sportwagon several nights while on the road b/w places. A winter rated sleeping bag, some ski luggage to block up the windows, and voila! instant bedroom.
I’m 65 and my mantra is: “once a dirtbag, always a dirtbag.”
A Vibe is my adventure wagon – great reliable mileage, and sleeps absolutely flat. RoadTripper screened vent awnings, a Ryobi cordless fan to keep you cool, and you’ve got a comfortable night crash!
My late 2001 Honda Civic 2 door had enough space for me to sleep in it when the back seats were folded down. I put my feet in the trunk, and a ridge rest between them and the trunk door. The most enjoyable Civic Bivy was in the Ruby Mountains in the single digits. In the morning I cracked the sunroof and fired up a Jetboil in the passengers seat.
Just read this article and it brought back a funny memory. Several years ago, on a rather long road trip, I sleepily pulled off the Interstate at a rare dark exit in the middle of Nowhere, TN. I drove a few miles before finding an empty gravel parking lot with a dusk-to-dawn light on a large metal building. I parked my ’97 Jeep GC at the far end and curled up in the back.
A few hours later I was awakened by engine noise and tires on gravel. I looked out to see a pick-up truck orbiting my Jeep up close. It was about 3 am in the morning. And yes, it was creepy.
On its third pass, I saw a teen-aged girl lean halfway out of the passenger side window to get a better look at whatever was inside my car. As she came by the side window I was looking out, she finally noticed me. She let out the most blood-curdling scream I’d ever heard and shot back inside the cab so fast I thought she’d left her hair behind.
The pick-up sped away with her still wailing.
I got up, fully awake now, and checked in a mirror. I immediately understood why she freaked. I looked like an extra from Night of the Living Dead.
Although I knew they were casing my Jeep to see if it held anything valuable, I actually felt sorry for the poor girl. But, as a silver lining, perhaps it diminished her enthusiasm for any future late-night illicit excursions.
how about taking along a “two meter” canine? a trusty canine is first a good sentry, and secondly maybe a good aggressor…….& in two meters or less have the predator “distracted”!
Tom- We have a “Border Terrorist” A 32 lb Border Terrier who thinks she’s a Rottweiler.
Great watchdog and loves to snuggle too!
Tom- We have a “Border Terrorist” A 32 lb Border Terrier who thinks she’s a Rottweiler.
Great watchdog and loves to snuggle too! Less than 2 meters, but a good travel buddy
Thank you for this useful, enjoyable and needed piece. I appreciated it and have passed it along to fellow car campers. In my glory days of the outdoors, I had a 1966 Chevy Caprice station wagon, complete with wood side panels that I slept, camped and fished in. It was a wonderful experience and did quite well during my college days and travels. My friends mocked me when I first bought it, but after many adventures, I soon had they envy. Again, thank you for this piece.–Beau Smith-The Flying Fist Ranch
I definitely know that feeling of the hair on your neck standing up when someone really questionable is checking out the vehicle you’re staying in. A guy at a Louisiana rest stop freaked me out enough that I got up and departed. I was living out of my ’77 Ford Econoline.
My friend Handley, a fellow video kayaker lived out of his Subie at the same time back in the early 90s. This was related to me by another fellow vidiot, Joe Bosquin a mutual friend.
Handley parked his Subie at American Wildwater in Fayetteville where he worked as was customary for most whitewater industry dirtbags. One beautiful fall day after work video kayaking the Gauley river on the Saturday that Gauleyfest fell on, he and Joe, who also worked at AW, decided to make the 30 minute drive to the festival in Summersville. The Festival has always been held in Summersville because it’s closest to the put in for the Gauley, but there is one draw back to the location. The Summersville PD has a notorious reputation for preying on out of town vehicles and whitewater paddlers in particular so thought was always given to trying to keep clear of them when going to, or coming from Gauleyfest. Now I’m not sure who had what, or where the blame lies, but being whitewater video kayakers, illicit substances were said to have been in the Subie at the time of this trip to Gauleyfest and as fate would have it, the Summersville PD pulled up behind them and pulled them over. The officer approached and asked for Handley’s license, registration and proof of insurance as usual and then asked if Handley would mind letting them search the vehicle. Joe told me he was stunned and terrified when Handley glibly told the officer “no problem.” By this time a Summersville PD Canine unit was on scene and while Handley and Joe got out the dog began investigating the driver’s compartment of the Subie. At this point the Summersville PD canine met Handley’s roommate, Weasel. Weasel was a small, shy cat, usually out of sight in Handley’s Subie. Here chaos ensued as Weasel exited the vehicle and dove underneath it on the side of highway 19, filled with four lanes of bumper to bumper traffic in Summersville, WV. Several profanity filled minutes passed as the PD dog handler tried to regain control of the animal while it circled Handley’s Subie, flailing wildly as it tried to squeeze underneath and reach Weasel. Finally with the dog captured and the officers embarrassed and frustrated by their Keystone Cops side show for all the people lined up on highway 19 waiting to get in to the festival, they advised Joe and Handley they could continue on without further delay.
HAAA! I used to work at Class VI (with a few guides who had cats, among other questionable possessions) so this is very relatable.
Chevy Equinox. Not your every day adventure-mobile, but it can be if you tear out the seats, build a platform and throw down a tempur-pedic mattress.
Having a bed in my car gets weird looks, but it’s one of those life decisions that I’ve enjoyed. I sleep in my car so much. I save on lodging. I cover more miles. Even pulling over for an afternoon nap in a park is nice.
I know the “creepy” feelings though. I’ve woken up to a pretty disheveled older man watching me through my window. I always feel like I’m being watched in my car.
I sleep in my Toyota often. I sleep in the front seat as is most comfortable. At home sleep in recliner. BUT the important one item I have with me–a portable toilet…I am old and do not relish going outside or to the rest area bathrooms. Light weight easy to carry to empty and do not have to get out of car in strange areas. A curtain on wire pulls across windows for privacy.
I took a lot of road trips in a minivan. I just duct-tapped grocery bags over the windows at night with a blanket across the headrests of two remaining front seats. It didn’t stop all of the nosy “protectors”, on public land… but I did get to sleep better.
Decades ago I had a tiny Fiat Spyder 2000. I needed to remote camp one night, so put the nose of the car up a steep embankment turning the passenger seat into a quasi hammock! Opened my eyes AM to a territorial view through the windshield!
Now I’m a senior solo female camper again. I had a tent malfunction last year… and learned why moon roofs are really special! The locks are pretty nice too, come to think of it…