Armando Bravo Martínez was jolted awake in the early hours by the sound of screeching wheels, only to witness a car crash into a vehicle parked perilously close to his RV.
The jarring incident left Martínez shaken, as he feared for his own safety and highlighted the precarious nature of living in an RV on the streets of San Francisco.
For many RV inhabitants, the danger of being hit by another vehicle is compounded by the threat of robbery, harassment, and their constant anxiety regarding the potential towing of their home.
With the closure of the last safe-parking site for RVs in the area, residents find themselves without any city-sanctioned spots to park safely.
The previous site near Candlestick Park served around 35 RV residents until it closed just months ago, leaving individuals scrambling to find alternative parking.
Those lacking the financial means to secure a space in an RV park—where fees range from $1,600 to $2,000 a month—now face a bleak future filled with uncertainty, drifting from place to place to escape both aggressive neighbors and the watchful eyes of parking enforcement.
The city’s homelessness department cited infrastructure challenges and difficulties in renewing the lease as reasons for the closure.
While officials announce a new “multi-pronged strategy” to address vehicle-based homelessness, any plans to open a safe sleeping site seem absent according to Emily Cohen, a spokesperson for the Department of Homelessness and Supportive Housing.
District 10 Supervisor Shamann Walton has expressed frustration over the situation, noting his office was led to believe that Jerrold Commons, a new Bayview homeless shelter, would offer 20 secure parking spots for RVs.
However, on the contrary, the Department of Homelessness confirmed that the shelter cannot accommodate personal vehicles, further exacerbating the challenges for RV dwellers.
Instead, only eight out of 68 beds—spread across a community of 60 tiny cabins—will be made available for those currently living in RVs, provided they abandon their vehicles entirely.
Walton emphasized the dangers this situation poses to the community, insisting that people need secure places to live with their vehicles.
He has critiqued Mayor Daniel Lurie for failing to address the needs of RV residents as they confront growing risks without assurance of safe spaces.
Statistics reveal that the number of individuals residing in vehicles on San Francisco streets has surged from 1,049 in 2022 to 1,442 in 2024, a 37 percent increase, reversing a previously downward trend.
For many, living in an RV represents a preference over homeless shelters, which can foster uncomfortable living conditions, such as proximity to drug activity or the threat of sexual harassment.
For those like Melodie, who has lived in her RV since 2008, the vehicle is a source of privacy and autonomy amidst the instability of homelessness.
Diagnosed with a chronic brain injury from childhood, Melodie has struggled to maintain steady employment, relying on disability and social security since becoming homeless after losing her job.
Her time in a shelter was brief and troubled, leading her to return to the freedom found in her RV, which she considers worth the risks associated with street parking.
However, her situation has come with hardships; after enduring multiple tows and a break-in that left her belongings scattered, Melodie’s RV was towed again in April, causing immense stress.
Martinez, bearing the weight of over $2,000 in parking tickets, echoed similar sentiments, articulating the unpredictability and insecurity that comes with RV living.
Once a senior fellow at the World Policy Institute, Martinez’s life took a downturn due to addiction and trauma, leading to years spent striving for stability while living in his pink and orange RV.
Throughout the past six years of living in his RV, he has witnessed tragedy—his dog was injured in an accident, and he lost the close-knit community he once had.
With feelings of fatigue settling in, Martinez mused about traveling to Paris but remains burdened by the challenges of daily RV life, including the constant need to relocate to avoid street cleaning or police attention.
Carlos Perez, another RV resident, relates to the communal spirit among fellow RV dwellers as they support each other amidst tough circumstances.
Living alongside his disabled brother in an RV for 12 years, Perez finds solace in the friendships forged with others in similar situations, looking out for one another in their neighborhood.
Despite the adversities, Perez too would accept a spot in Jerrold Commons if it were offered, recognizing the relief that stable parking could bring to his life.
“People try to make it even harder for us,” commented Perez, underlining how societal judgments often further complicate the struggles faced by RV residents.
He attributes their situation to the impossibly high cost of housing in San Francisco and emphasizes their desire to merely survive.
Through the individual stories of Martinez, Melodie, and Perez, the dire plight of RV residents in San Francisco is brought to light, mirroring the city’s larger struggles with homelessness and inadequate solutions.
The lack of a dedicated parking space signifies a broader systemic failure, raising pertinent questions on how cities can more effectively address vehicle-based homelessness in the face of rising numbers and ongoing challenges.
image source from：https://missionlocal.org/2025/04/sf-rv-residents-homeless/
