 |
  |
|
 |
||||||||||
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
||||||||||
Asphalt
Drifters It's mid-April, and the clouds above the Wal-Mart store at the intersection of West 11th Avenue and Belt Line Road darken the early evening sky over Eugene. By the looks of it, rain will be falling soon. It's not the kind of weather most campers choose to be out in. Then again, the multi-acre parking lot of a Wal-Mart Supercenter isn't where most people choose to camp. Linda Potter swings open the door of her 34-foot motor home in the lot's northwest corner. "The world is my backyard," she declares.
Potter wears blue jeans, a black tank top and a two-inch neck scar that's a permanent reminder of a car accident. The black hair falling to her shoulders is streaked by the occasional strand of gray. She tows a compact hatchback behind her RV and parks it nearby when she's not moving. A bright yellow smiley face decal stares from the passenger-side window. Dusk settles, and conflicting sounds surround the edge of the lot. Potter's door opens to a sliver of asphalt before meeting a wide field that spreads south toward the Willow Creek wetlands. Birds chirp inside nearby shrubs, and an old tin-roofed barn leans in the distance. In the other direction, traffic growls through one of the busiest intersections in west Eugene. "You get a little bit of nature here," says Potter, a self-employed crafter who traverses the western states selling small flint fire-starters. "Some [Wal-Mart parking lots] are all traffic. Some nights I've ended up sleeping with ear plugs." Potter isn't the only one who calls Wal-Mart asphalt home. Mike (who asked that his last name be withheld) lives permanently on disability with a large black Labrador inside a 17-foot travel trailer that he rotates between Eugene Wal-Mart lots. Ned and Marianne Face, meanwhile, are a retired couple from Washington state and self-described snowbirds who travel the country and only occasionally spend a night on Wal-Mart blacktop. It's unclear when Wal-Mart, which first opened in Arkansas in 1962, began allowing RVers in its parking lots. "Nobody seems to know when it started," company spokesperson Kevin Thornton says. "Oddly enough, there's actually not an official policy on that." Yet somewhere on the road to market domination, Wal-Mart became a bedrock of RV culture. Road warriors discovered that Wal-Mart would allow them to park and sleep for free, and with more than 3,800 Wal-Mart stores spattered across the U.S. — including 29 in Oregon and four in Lane County — the lots became another option for the road-weary. The phenomenon became so pervasive that in 1995, Rand McNally published a Wal-Mart Road Atlas, a guide showing the location of each store site nationwide. During two weeks of cruising Lane County's Wal-Mart lots — two in Eugene, one in Springfield and one in Cottage Grove — EW counted as many as seven camper vans and motor homes parked snugly on the asphalt. What drives people to live and vacation in a Wal-Mart parking lot? Is it safe? And what effect is it having on the private and public camping industries? "There are three types of people that stay there, basically," explains Chuck Woodbury, the publisher of a small pamphlet about the approximately 10 percent of Wal-Mart stores that do not allow overnight RV parking, many times due to conflicts with city laws. The pamphlet is designed to accompany the Wal-Mart Road Atlas, sort of the yin to its yang. The first two types stay either because the store is on their way to a better destination or they're too tired to keep on driving. Then there's the third kind. "They'll basically just go from one Wal-Mart to another because they don't have to pay," Woodbury says. "And that crowd is probably a little larger right now." Ned and Marianne Face stopped at the Cottage Grove store in late April. They pulled in at 5 pm after leaving Redding, Calif., and planned to be gone by 8 the next morning. Their 34-foot coach serves as a permanent home during the winter months — when they're either in Yuma, Ariz., or Palm Springs, Calif. — and as a supplement to their waterfront cottage when they return to Whidbey Island. This year the couple mixed things up, leaving Washington last October for a 23-state perimeter tour around the U.S. in celebration of their 50th wedding anniversary. "We're just passing through," Marianne said from inside her motor home, which she and Ned bought brand new 11 years ago for $52,000. She said that they only stay at Wal-Mart "when we're going from A to B and we're in between." A deep-red geranium and a tomato plant full of small fruit also made the trip and thrive inside the RV's picture-frame windows. Wal-Mart Road Atlases stuffed the seat pocket behind the coach's passenger-side chair. While the Faces' motor home might seem pricey, it's cheap compared to bus conversions — many of which are made right here in Lane County — that sell for as much as $2 million a pop. Oregon is the country's third-largest RV manufacturing state. Monaco Coach, Country Coach and Marathon Coach all build RVs on the outskirts of Eugene, and together, they employ more than 4,500 local workers. In Lane County, only the wood products industry offers more jobs. Thornton, the Wal-Mart spokesman, works from Wally World's home office at the foot of the Ozark Mountains in Bentonville, Ark. Though not an RVer himself, he admits it's "wildly popular" to camp in their parking lots. "You bet we welcome the RVs to stay with us," he says over the phone with a cheery Southern twang, as if he were new to the world and, well yeah, would love to help tell y'all the good things about Wal-Mart ... the world's largest retailer, a proven violator of labor rights and slayer of family-run businesses nationwide. Thornton says that allowing RVs to park in store lots is "just something we like to do and encourage store managers to do." He calls it an "added convenience for our customers, especially in a situation with the Supercenters," which he describes as true one-stop shopping. Those typically larger Wal-Mart stores sell everything from RV accessories to groceries. "[RVers] could park in our parking lot and while they're getting their oil changed, they could go in and get a bite to eat and even get their hair done," Thornton says. But take a look at Lane County's Wal-Mart lots, and you'll see they're anything but paved paradise. "You know, the sad thing is, there's four other families here living in their cars," Potter notes at the West 11th lot. "Wal-Mart isn't just supplying this for us [RVers]. There's families here that are using it as their home. I think it's really big of Wal-Mart to open it up to that." The High Cost of Low Prices, Robert Greenwald's anti-Wal-Mart documentary, describes parking lot crimes as serious as abduction and murder occurring at Wal-Mart. But Eugene Police Department spokesperson Pam Olshanski and Springfield Police Sgt. Brent Carpenter said that crimes occurring in local Wal-Mart lots tend to be less violent. Calls for police service to the lots include auto theft, assault, disorderly conduct, criminal mischief and drug use.
At the Delta Oaks store, Mike stands next to his travel trailer and points to a red and white sign posted on a light pole: No Overnight RV Parking. Unauthorized vehicles will be towed. The notice refers to Oregon Revised Statute 446-310, a 2,000-word jumble of legal jargon that nowhere says the words "parking lot." What is said is that anyone using kitchen or toilet facilities in a "camping vehicle" parked overnight at a place without sanitary facilities must store sewage and waste in a watertight and sanitary method. Mike's unit is self-contained, so legally, sign or not, it appears he's covered. Besides, the city of Eugene specifically allows parking lot RVing with store permission. "In general, with prohibitive camping, the only time we respond is to complaints," said Olshanski. And generally, when it comes to RVers, "we don't get complaints."
During the past 20 years, Potter has rolled a trio of RVs — from her initial camper van to her current coach-style cruiser — more than a million miles. A year ago she finally decided to move in full-time. The decision was primarily financial. It was also a way to take home on the road. She would like to drive to Alaska, a state she typically visits by air, but she says that dream is stalled by gas prices. Her RV gets just nine miles to the gallon, making it a $70 round-trip to a weekend craft fair in Portland. In Mike's words, gas prices draw the map for most "full-time rubber tramps." The 58-year-old former wedding photographer from Cincinnati typically rotates between the Wal-Mart lots at Delta Oaks and the one on West 11th and Belt Line. He's lived full-time in his camper since leaving Ohio about five years ago, when he got a divorce, lost his house and closed his business. He describes himself as from an upper-middle-class family but says "society is pulverizing people." He once dreamed of being a full-time RVer with plenty of time to fish. Last spring he parked on the Rogue River chasing salmon. His "nice truck" has since broken down, and he doesn't trust his old tan Chevy enough to head out. Instead he's here, at home, hanging around Delta Oaks at sunset surrounded by asphalt and staring at the blank exterior walls of Wal-Mart. This is the life $500 in monthly disability checks buys. A hulking padlock hangs from a door latch outside Mike's trailer as he leans against the knob. Inside, his big black dog sits silently. "These parking lots are very important for our survival," he says. "We don't have any place else to go." His new dream is to buy a horse and live in the "boondocks somewhere." He then looks away and starts talking about evergreen trees and bears, and how there's nothing to do in the boondocks. And, he adds, gazing vacantly toward the asphalt, "It's cold."
The Faces have their own little nirvana on wheels. Subtract the psychedelics and dramatics, and you're looking at a couple of gray-haired Merry Pranksters rolling Further-like wherever they feel. "We went [inside Wal-Mart] and asked them if we could stay," Marianne says back inside their coach at the Cottage Grove lot. "We said [to ourselves], 'If we can't stay here, we'll go over there.'" What's "over there" is the Village Green RV Park, a rustic location one lot away where RV spots rent for $24 a night. Each of the 19 slots have full hook-ups, says park manager Robert Hunt. "I do notice that there are, in the evenings at times, RVs at the Wal-Mart," he says. "That's a decision that they make. They don't really need the hook-ups or the other amenities that are offered here at the Green." Terry McMullen of Premier RV Resorts thinks that's even more true for an upscale park like the fully landscaped location he manages just off Interstate-5 near Coburg. The resort's lodge includes a rock fireplace and exposed-log construction. Outside, a small pool waits for guests and sheep graze in a nearby meadow next to a small stream that gurgles full. There's even a lake. "The type of person who chooses to stay in this type of a park is not going to stay in a Wal-Mart parking lot," explains McMullen, director of operations. "What they are looking for is a high-quality experience, and that's what we give them." That experience costs between $36 and $42 per night. All the sites have full hook-ups — sewer, water and electricity — and from mid-June through September the park maintains 100 percent capacity in its 152 slots. "It affects the industry; there's no question about that," he says of parking lot culture. "But our little section of the industry, we think we've got a handle on it." Same goes for Oregon Parks and Recreation Department. "State park camping is generally much more about the experience and the setting rather than just a place to camp for the night," says spokesperson Chris Havel. "I think for that reason our market is quite a bit different." For its 3,700 hook-up sites the state charges between $12 and $22 per night. Hook-ups are exactly the reason Richard and Alberta Lambert of Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, parked at the Village Green. "If I had my druthers, if someone told me I could get electricity at the Wal-Mart, then I'd be there," Richard said as he and his wife walked yapping Lhasa apsos in a field between the park and parking lot. The couple tows a 32-foot fifth-wheel with pop-outs but no generator, and they RV camp for about a month each year. "You'll find most of your Wal-Mart campers ... they just don't stay (very long)," Richard said. In Lane County that seems especially true in Cottage Grove, where the store is located directly off I-5, and a massive sign calls the one-night wanderers home. "With this one, you can't miss it," Ned Face said.
Whether full-timers or vacationers, there are some common sense rules about Wal-Mart RVing. Keep the chairs and barbecues inside, Woodbury warns, and don't pull out your awning. "It's not camping," he says. "Nobody says it's camping. Some people, frankly, like to shop at Wal-Mart. They just want to go in and shop. It's recreation to them. It's not to me, but it is to them." At the Supercenter on West 11th Avenue, Potter buys everything she needs for her RV and dinner in one place. On board, she uses a wireless Internet connection to check e-mail, inspect new motor home models and search for Wal-Mart stores around the West. The coach is also equipped with two TVs, a VCR, a DVD player, a stereo and a microwave. A sticker on one window warns: Vehicle protected by Security System. As Potter continues to chat outside, the growl of traffic assumes control of the aural battle. A flock of ducks forms a V and flies overhead. It's April — too late to be migrating south for the winter. There are, however, a few Wal-Marts in that direction. Darrick Meneken is a Eugene-based freelance writer (darrick@darrickmeneken.com). He prefers to camp with the bears in the boondocks. |
|
|||||||||||||||||||||
|
||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
|
||||||||||||||||||||
|
||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
||||||||||||||||||||||
