Americans living in their cars are finding refuge in ‘safe parking lots’
Starting in October 2021, about 40 motorhomes or recreational vehicles (RVs) parked in a lot on Grayson Street in Berkeley, California, as part of the city’s first attempt at a “safe parking lot”.
According to Google Maps photos, the space had been mostly unused since 2008. But a local non-profit, the Dorothy Day House, created the Safe Parking and Respite Kickstart (Spark) program to help “alleviate the crisis of unsheltered and encampment homeless” in one of the nation’s most expensive housing markets.
The space filled a pressing need for those who didn’t have traditional lodging. People without stable, stationary housing could park their vehicles there for free without fear of violating city ordinances against sidewalk occupation and long-term parking. Spark provided water and toilets, and it allowed occupants to have pets and inand-out privileges without a curfew – features that are often hard to come by on the street or in homeless shelters.
As homelessness continues to grow, so does the number of those living in their vehicles. A 2018 survey of Kings county, Washington, showed that 3,372 people were living in their cars, a 46% increase from the year before. In 2019, San Francisco saw a 45% increase from its count in 2017; in nearby Oakland, vehicle-based homelessness more than doubled in the same timespan. It’s not surprising that municipalities are starting their own safe-lot programs; in 2023, the cities of Vista, California, and Seattle and Tacoma in Washington established their first-ever safe lots.
Berkeley leased the Grayson Street lot for $410,000 from a private company. That agreement was supposed to run until September 2022 but was extended through that year. But on 31 December, heavy storms descended on the area, resulting in nearly 4in of rain in a day. Still, the RV dwellers were given until 4pm to leave before the gates were locked.
“It was absolutely pouring,” said Amber Whitson, who had been staying in an RV in the lot. “And we were the only mechanics on the lot.”
Some vehicles broke down, so Whitson and her longtime boyfriend, Chris Castle, began hauling out other members of the community. “We towed James and Sarah’s RV out of the lot and took it a few streets over,” Whitson said. “Then we drove back and towed out Sam’s little trailer that he lives in.” By 6pm, when there were only two RVs left, a tow truck finished clearing the lot.
Whitson still lives nearby in her RV, now parked on a street with none of the protections or amenities afforded by the safe parking lot. She gets harassed by a nearby business’s workers who blare their horns as they drive by. “There was so much value to being parked somewhere other than the streets,” she said.
The New Beginnings non-profit in Santa Barbara, California – started in 2004 – is one of the most influential advocates of safe parking lots.
“The local officials had been getting an increasing number of complaints about people living in their vehicles,” recalled Kristine Schwarz, executive director of New Beginnings. “And one day, [then] county supervisor Susan Rose walked outside after work and said, ‘Wait, there’s a parking lot right here.’”
New Beginnings has since expanded to 154 spaces across 26 lots, and Schwarz and company have become the go-to authorities for others to glean information on how to run such lots. They have consulted with more than 300 communities, and even provide a manual outlining best practices and tips (a second edition is forthcoming). “It’s almost at the point where we can’t field requests any more, unfortunately,” Schwarz said.
To make a safe-lot program work takes trust, resources and low overhead. Flexibility of hours is important because it makes people feel at home and in control. Financial assistance like gas cards or money for vehicle repairs helps.Schwarz also believes it’s important that organizations that run the lots not pay for access.
“If we had to pay for every lot, it just wouldn’t be possible,” Schwarz said. One of New Beginnings’ largest costs is insurance for general liability. It costs the organization more than $30,000 a year, and it has yet to file a single claim. “We insure every single lot so that people feel safe,” Schwartz said.
But which people? One major obstacle to getting a safe lot approved is the almost-inevitable opposition from property owners and business interests, who associate the homeless population with the disruption of private and public spaces. “They have a tendency to want to put the lot next to the police station,” said Schwarz. “Most [lot users] aren’t comfortable with that, not because they have any criminal background, but because it feels stigmatizing.” Many neighbors’ objections take the form of noise concerns. Those issues or complaints are important to resolve immediately, since people living in RVs often conduct their activities outdoors.
“Sometimes you might have a new person running a generator outside their car, and it’s like, ‘OK, you can’t do that,’” Schwartz said. “The grassroots, person-to-person conversation is critical because you’re moving into somebody’s neighborhood. So you want [existing residents] to feel safe, and they want to understand what’s happening.”
Very often, those going through vehicle homelessness are new to the experience and perhaps only need a short-term safety net to get themselves back into their previous state of housing. They too need a sense of security.
“If they’re homeless for the first time, they’re sort of coming to terms with what has happened and their new status, and all they have left is their car,” said Mike Phillips, senior director at Jewish Family Services, a non-profit that operates a safe lot in San Diego. “The idea is that someone can come to one of our sites and be safe, maybe save some money, maybe look for work, maybe reach out to relatives to find a place where they can go.”
Phillips has been surprised by the number of senior citizens living in their cars. “Maybe they have family in other parts of the country, and the family has no idea,” he said. “And of course, they’re so ashamed they didn’t want their loved ones to know.”
This reflects the experiences of many safe-lot managers. “It’s really unfortunate because there’s no alternative for people who’ve worked all their lives, and either their partner or spouse dies so their income is reduced,” said Schwarz. “Or they’ve been living in the same apartment for 30 years and whoever owns it wants to put their grandparents in there. So they evict them, and they go into the rental market and get sticker shock.”
And there’s the main difficulty for safe lots. While they can be important tourniquets, they aren’t cures. Rather, their ultimate goal is to move people from lots into more stable scenarios.
Casey Villacana is a 57-year-old navy veteran who is currently in a safe lot at New Beginnings but is trying to re-enter housing. When I spoke to him in late November, he was about to get fingerprinted so that he would be able to access a voucher that would cover a portion of his rent. While he waited, this transitional space offered respite without worry.
“If you park down the street in the middle of the night, there’s always a chance that a cop will pull up and ask you to leave,” Villacana said. “So it’s reassuring that when you pull in a lot at 7pm, you’re going to get a good night’s sleep until the time you have to leave.”
Parking at a safe lot reduces tickets, a costly problem, especially for those