You wake up in a sweat from an intense nightmare. Where are you?
It sure doesn’t feel like your comfortable bed at home. Somehow it doesn’t seem like you’re on an overnight business trip either. Are you staying with the in-laws again?
Awareness of your situation slowly returns. You’re lying on an army cot. You must have tossed the olive drab wool blankets aside during your bad dream. The spot on your forearm where they injected the microchip is starting to hurt again.
Gray daylight starts to filter in through the barred windows high up along the walls. Those walls begin to glow dully as dawn begins, showing the beige dinginess of what was once a gymnasium.
Men are snoring all around you. You remember that the women and children are in a neighboring building. An old man a few cots to your right coughs and lights a pungent smelling cigarette.
In a few minutes the public address system will blare. Then all of these guys will be awake, planting their feet on the cold concrete floor. They’ll be moaning, complaining loudly and cursing another day.
It’s the beginning of Day 27 in FEMA camp 79. Or is it Day 28 by now? Either way, it’s been nearly amonth. You’ve heard it said that it takes a month to develop a new habit, but you sure don’t like this new routine.
What was it again that put you here? Did your wife deliver one too many pizzas to the local protesters? Was it the popular, but politically incorrect bumper sticker on your car? The copy of the U. S. Constitution found during the SWAT team raid didn’t help your case any.
No matter. You’re here. Now what? You’re 150 miles from home, and the old familiar life is gone for good.
Where is your friend Bob? Along some river in Wyoming by now? What was that he said about not being there when things went down? You thought his modern day drifter talk was crazy.
Maybe you should have listened to him. Maybe you should have left with him. Convincing your wife to come along–well, that’s another story.
Many of us are planning to shelter in place during difficult circumstances. And many counsel that that’s the best course of action. We’d only bug out in the event of a hurricane or similar threat.
But what if we have to live on the road, or off the road when turmoil breaks out? What if you have no friend like Bob in the scenario above to talk to about such things? What can others who’ve lived on the move teach you and me?
This week’s DestinySurvival Pick is a little book called Dwelling Portably 2009–2015: More Tips from the People Who Inspired the Tiny House Movement, Plus Highlights from 2000–2008 (DIY), by Holly Davis and Burt Davis.
This is another volume in a series which is filled with helpful tips and information on living without a permanent residence.
How well could you live without modern technological conveniences? What would you do to keep sheltered? How would you prepare food? What about everyday activities like taking a shower? What would you do for work?
Dwelling Portably 2009–2015 contains a collection of practical and useful tips and tricks. It’swritten by those doing it for over 30 years.
To get your copy, click on its title wherever you see it linked in this post, and you’ll be taken to the page where it’s featured. Add it to your cart to start the order process.
If you’re going to be living out of a car, van or trailer, you’ll want the guidance you get from Dwelling Portably 2009–2015.
Could your survival mean dwelling portably? Or would you rather take your chances and risk waking up like the man in the fictional account above?