[dropcap size=big]A[/dropcap]rthur Davis spends his days and nights in a camper van he’s converted into a tiny home, with a bed, a make-shift counter and a butane burner to cook. He lives across from the pupusa and elote vendors near Echo Park Lake, comfortable — relatively speaking — but technically unhoused.
“I was born in the 40s, so I’ve seen a lot of changes. When I was growing up there were no telephones. The first house I bought cost me 14,000,” Davis explained on a bright afternoon. “Back then one man could work for a year to provide for his family and buy a house.”
From the outside, the van looks like the camper that anybody who loves the road might dream of owning. At one point during our interview, two young women walked past Arthur’s Chevy on their way to lay out in Echo Park. I heard one say quietly to the other, “That van is sick!”
But inside, the couple of windows that Arthur had were blocked, heightening the stuffiness of the van’s interior. The sky hung with June Gloom, but I imagined that at the height of the summer the van gets to be hot and isolating.