Skoolies Living out of Converted School Buses

converted school bus, aka a skoolie


When I was a kid, I hated school.

But I loved the bus. That was the time when all hell broke loose. Anarchy, really. A single adult against thirty or so kids, and he has to sit behind the wheel.

We were bad. He was nice. Kids are jerks, what else can I say? As we got older, we smoked cigarettes in the back, where the cool kids hung out. I’m a bit ashamed of it all now, but youth is stupid. That’s why God didn’t create Facebook, only man would come up with a way to record all of our mistakes for mankind to search through for an eternity.

As I grew up, and did the backpacking thing, hitchhiked awhile, people began paying me to write. All of a sudden, I had enough money to buy some type of RV to travel around and write and, yeah, still smoke cigarettes in. So, I bought a school bus.

It was maybe easier back then, eighteen years ago. People didn’t know about free BLM unless you lived there. The internet was barely a thing, let alone having one in your pocket at all times. But then again, if you wanted a shower, or to park in a small town, people often wondered what the hell a young guy with a beard was doing driving around in a school bus with a bed in the back. It probably didn’t help that I like candy, and like to share.

Years have gone by and I’m over the school bus thing. I crashed it, actually. No one was hurt, except me I guess, since my house was destroyed. But I love to see a renewal, an interest in these old diesel beasts meant for lugging kids off to learn about factory work and sitting still, now being used more and more for something a bit closer to reality, freedom I suppose I’d say.

If you ever get the chance to turn the world on its head, I’d say do it, and that is exactly what a busted up, beaten down school bus affords you. It’s “Fuck the man!” and “Goddamn kids!” all at once.

Welcome to the world of skoolie living.