Transcription
It has become the skid row for RV homelessness in LA County. People without a home living in hundreds of RVs, problems keep mounting for this roving encampment. Kal's Jasmine V spoke to the RV company owner who's now apologizing and trying to set the record straight.
Homelessness in America has never been higher. But the real crisis is the one you don't see. Thousands live in cars, vans, and RVs hidden in industrial streets and parking lots. One tow, one ticket, and their last shelter is gone. This isn't RV life. It's survival. Today, we pull back the curtain on this hidden crisis. The realities, the dangers, and the fight to survive when your home has wheels. Let's get rolling.
Homelessness in America has hit a record high with over 653,000 people without stable housing in 2023. Moving along the peninsula and they're attracting people from all walks of life. Nightbeat's Joe Vasquez is in San Mateo County with the staggering new numbers. Last several weeks, we have been investigating how and why this could be allowed to happen. And now Eyewitness News reporter Josh Haskell shows you what's being done to get people services and start moving some of these RVs out.
The most since tracking began. But there's a hidden side to this crisis that official numbers miss. Thousands of Americans living in cars, vans, and RVs. This vehicle-based homelessness is exploding in cities like Los Angeles, San Diego, and Seattle, where rows of RVs line industrial streets each night. These residents might not look homeless to passing drivers. They have walls and a roof, but they're living without permanent utilities, legal parking, or stability.
The problem is largely invisible in government counts. Unlike shelter residents who are easily tracked, vehicle dwellers move frequently to avoid parking restrictions and often go unregistered in official surveys. A tow notice can instantly destroy their only form of shelter. Experts believe these numbers are severely undercounted, making this one of the fastest growing yet least understood aspects of America's housing crisis. While policymakers focus on traditional homelessness, thousands more Americans are quietly living in a precarious middle ground. Housed but not home. Mobile but never settled. This hidden population represents a new face of housing insecurity that demands urgent attention and innovative solutions.
The explosion in vehicle-based homelessness isn't accidental. It's the inevitable result of crushing economic pressures hitting Americans simultaneously. Since 2020, rents have skyrocketed over 25% nationwide, with cities like Phoenix, Tampa, and Austin seeing jaw-dropping increases of 35 to 40%. Meanwhile, wages have crept up less than 2% after adjusting for inflation. Factor in soaring costs for groceries, gas, and utilities, and families who once lived comfortably now face impossible choices. The eviction crisis compounds the problem. Nearly 970,000 eviction cases were filed in 2023 as pandemic protections disappeared.
Los Angeles, a place to park is fast becoming a place to start over for thousands of people there living in RVs. Once evicted, people encounter a brutal cycle: steep security deposits, application fees, and damaged credit scores that effectively ban them from rental markets. Home ownership offers no escape route. With median home prices exceeding $42,000 and mortgage rates near 7%, buying remains a fantasy for most Americans. Faced with these impossible economics, many turn to aging RVs and beat-up vans. Not for adventure, but for survival. These aren't lifestyle choices. They're desperate attempts to avoid sleeping on concrete. These vehicles become fragile shelters on wheels, offering minimal protection from both the elements and a housing system that has fundamentally failed working families across America.
For families teetering on the edge of homelessness, purchasing an old RV isn't about wanderlust. It's about survival. When shelters overflow, feel unsafe, or force families to separate, a recreational vehicle becomes their only option to stay together under one roof. The devastating math speaks volumes. A used RV costs $3,000 to $8,000, often less than 2 months' rent in today's inflated market. Desperate parents liquidate savings accounts, borrow from family members, or sell cherished belongings to afford one. Sometimes a relative sells an aging rig at a steep discount, understanding they're providing far more than a vehicle. They're offering hope.
A luxury RV lot overrun by squatters, trash piling up, trailers burning, and safety concerns growing. But why do some say they had no choice but to move in?
Fox 11's Haley Winslow is in the City of Industry.
Initially, an RV feels like salvation. A mobile home offering dignity and family unity. But this safety net remains dangerously fragile. A single mechanical breakdown, new parking restrictions, or unexpected towing can instantly transform that last refuge into worthless metal. The RV becomes simultaneously their sanctuary and their prison. Mobile freedom shadowed by constant vulnerability.
Living in an RV appears cheaper than paying rent, but this assumption masks a cruel financial reality that devastates people when they're most vulnerable. Power costs devour budgets relentlessly. Without electrical hookups, residents burn $5 to $15 daily on generator fuel. Solar panels could provide relief, but the $800 to $2,000 upfront investment remains impossible for most. Water refills and waste disposal add another $40 to $100 monthly. Repairs deliver the crushing blow.
In the South Bay, local leaders say they're making a new push to address what they're calling "vanlording."
Yeah. They say people are illegally renting substandard RVs to the unhoused, letting them live in poor conditions.
These aren't conveniences. They're survival equipment that families can't live without. Even staying stationary costs money. Most states mandate insurance and registration, averaging $500 to $1,200 annually. Without proper documentation, owners face tickets or impoundment, losing their only shelter. The devastating reality: many RV dwellers spend $600 to $1,200 monthly just surviving, amounts rivaling the rent they desperately tried to escape. What appeared to be financial salvation becomes another form of housing insecurity. Only this version comes with wheels. The supposed escape from unaffordable housing transforms into a mobile poverty trap with its own relentless expenses.
For RV dwellers, securing safe parking involves more than affordability. It means beating an arbitrary expiration date that treats their homes like spoiled milk.
Well, the Low-Income Housing Institute is the group tasked with pulling this off. They say they're looking at about 12 sites right now, have yet to narrow it down to where this could actually become a reality, though they say the services they provide.
Nationwide, private campgrounds enforce the notorious 10-year rule, automatically banning any RV manufactured more than a decade ago, regardless of condition. A pristine, fully operational 2008 motor home gets rejected purely based on its birth certificate, not its livability. This policy creates a devastating catch-22. Most affordable RVs accessible to struggling families exceed the 10-year threshold. Upgrading to a newer model costs $50,000 or more, an impossible sum for people who chose RV living precisely because they couldn't afford traditional housing. Some campgrounds offer exceptions, but only after submitting photos, passing inspections, or completing extensive paperwork, obstacles nearly impossible to navigate without reliable internet, transportation, or free time. The consequences are predictable and cruel. Families get expelled from safe, legal campgrounds and forced onto industrial streets, remote pull-offs, or into endless nomadic cycles. What campground owners market as quality standards functions as pure economic discrimination. A policy that drives vulnerable people deeper underground simply because their shelter has too many birthdays. This age-based segregation transforms RV living from challenging into nearly impossible, making homelessness even more precarious.
As vehicle homelessness explodes, cities nationwide are responding not with housing solutions, but with aggressive enforcement that criminalizes survival itself. Los Angeles, home to over 10,000 vehicle dwellers, has expanded no-parking zones across hundreds of streets.
Welcome back. The Bernalillo County Fire Department has seen a spike in RV fires in the last 2 weeks, all of which likely could have been prevented.
RV encampments will focus on cleanup and homeless outreach operating getting underway today in Gardena.
Tickets cost $25 to $75, but unpaid fines snowball into thousands. Portland forces constant movement with 24-hour parking limits. Phoenix has ramped up aggressive towing under the guise of sanitation concerns. Each tow potentially destroying someone's only shelter. Impound fees exceeding $1,000 often surpass the vehicle's actual value. For people surviving paycheck to paycheck, losing their RV means instant homelessness with no recovery path. The cruel irony? Instead of creating safe parking zones or affordable housing, cities push vehicle dwellers into increasingly dangerous areas away from jobs, schools, and essential services. This strategy hides the crisis from public view without addressing root causes. These enforcement-first policies may sanitize streets for housed residents, but they make survival exponentially more dangerous for people already clinging to stability by their fingernails. Rather than offering pathways out of homelessness, cities are systematically destroying the fragile shelters that keep families from sleeping on concrete, turning a housing crisis into a humanitarian disaster.
When cities ban RV parking and campgrounds enforce age restrictions, homeless families get squeezed into society's forgotten corners. A luxury RV lot overrun by squatters, trash piling up, trailers burning, and safety concerns growing. But why does some say they had no choice but to move in?
Fox 11's Haley Winslow is in the City of Industry.
Industrial zones, empty lots, and corporate parking areas become survival sanctuaries after sunset. In Seattle and San Diego, warehouse districts transform into makeshift neighborhoods each evening as aging RVs line up like urban wagon trains, their windows draped with blankets for privacy. Outside city limits, families seek refuge in highway pull-offs or wooded clearings, hoping invisibility equals safety. Others master a nomadic rotation between Walmart lots, truck stops, and rest areas, desperately trying to blend in long enough for one peaceful night's sleep.
Every parking choice demands brutal calculations. Mechanical breakdowns can strand families miles from help. For vehicle dwellers, parking becomes a relentless daily gamble. Each move weighs safety against legality, visibility against privacy. One miscalculation triggers tickets, towing, or violence. The exhausting search for temporary sanctuary never ends. A constant chess match where the stakes are shelter itself, and losing means sleeping exposed on concrete.
After sunset, America's vehicle-based homeless face escalating dangers that housed residents never consider. Without secure apartment buildings or managed campgrounds, RV dwellers become vulnerable targets in locations where safety remains a luxury they can't afford. The statistics paint a terrifying picture. A 2023 National Vehicle Residency Coalition report documented over 17,000 incidents of theft, vandalism, or assault against vehicle dwellers across just five major cities. Women and seniors face disproportionate risks. UCLA research revealed that 42% of women living in vehicles experienced harassment or stalking, while one in five endured physical threats. Thieves systematically target propane tanks, generators, and batteries. Essential survival equipment that can be stolen within minutes and resold for quick cash. Many residents sleep clutching pepper spray or rely on guard dogs for protection. But genuine security remains elusive.
Reporting crimes creates a dangerous paradox. Calling police often triggers parking citations, eviction orders, or vehicle impoundment, punishing victims for seeking help. This reality forces thousands into constant hypervigilance. Sleep becomes fitful, physical health deteriorates, and psychological stress accumulates relentlessly. Every night demands an impossible choice: remain visible enough for potential safety, or stay invisible enough to avoid unwanted attention. For vehicle dwellers, darkness doesn't bring rest. It brings fear.
RV homelessness extends far beyond losing traditional housing. It unleashes a devastating health crisis that systematically destroys people physically, mentally, and emotionally. Mental deterioration strikes first. Relentless anxiety over tickets, impoundment, and mechanical failures creates chronic stress that never subsides. This constant pressure rewires brain chemistry, fueling depression, anxiety disorders, and crushing hopelessness. Without stability, planning a future becomes impossible. Survival consumes every mental resource.
Physical health collapses in parallel. Limited water access makes basic hygiene challenging, increasing infection risks. Broken or tiny refrigerators force reliance on processed, high-sodium foods that devastate those managing diabetes, heart disease, or other chronic conditions. Maintaining medical regimens becomes nearly impossible without consistent storage or preparation facilities. Social isolation compounds every problem. Without stable addresses, accessing healthcare, employment, or mail becomes bureaucratic torture. Many withdraw from relationships out of shame or geographic instability. RV homelessness doesn't simply remove shelter. It systematically dismantles human health, energy, and hope. What begins as a housing solution slowly transforms into a mobile prison that traps people in declining physical and mental states, making escape increasingly impossible.
For years, budget-friendly campgrounds provided essential refuge for RV dwellers, offering electrical hookups, hot showers, and basic security for far less than urban rent. That critical safety net is rapidly disappearing across popular states like Florida, Arizona, and California. Parks that once charged $400 to $600 monthly now demand $900 to $1,200, if they accept long-term residents at all. Many have completely abandoned full-time residents, pivoting to short-term vacation rentals that generate triple the revenue during peak seasons. The notorious 10-year rule delivers another crushing blow, automatically excluding older RVs regardless of their actual condition. Even parks without age restrictions increasingly favor short-term tourists over financially struggling permanent residents, viewing them as less profitable and more problematic.
This industry transformation triggers devastating consequences. Families expelled from affordable campgrounds get forced onto industrial streets, vacant lots, or remote areas without utilities. Losing campground access becomes life-threatening. The message couldn't be clearer: tourism profits matter more than housing stability. The industry has made a calculated decision to abandon America's most vulnerable in pursuit of higher-paying customers. For thousands clinging to their last refuge, this shift means being priced out of survival itself.
New at 10 tonight, those living in an RV community in a San Francisco neighborhood are up against the clock. A deadline to leave the area is less than two hours away. And this is the second time in a matter of weeks that they've been ordered to move. KTVU's Betty Yu is live near the San Francisco Zoo where people have some tough decisions to make tonight. Betty?
While most cities combat RV homelessness with tickets and towing, innovative communities are pioneering compassionate approaches that actually address the crisis rather than criminalize it. Safe parking programs represent the most promising breakthrough. Cities like San Diego, Santa Barbara, and Seattle have created designated lots where RV dwellers can legally park overnight with access to bathrooms, security patrols, and dedicated case managers. These programs connect residents to social services, employment resources, and crucially, pathways to permanent housing.
Grassroots organizations fill gaps where government efforts lag behind. Volunteer networks operate mobile shower units, provide free waste disposal access, and maintain emergency repair funds to keep aging RVs habitable. Forward-thinking churches and nonprofits have purchased vacant lots to establish low-cost RV communities with electrical hookups, proving that dignity and stability don't require enormous budgets. The sobering limitation: scale remains woefully inadequate. San Diego's safe parking program offers fewer than 300 spaces for over 2,000 vehicle dwellers. Waiting lists stretch for months while demand accelerates faster than program expansion. These pilot efforts demonstrate that RV homelessness isn't an unsolvable crisis. It's a solvable problem requiring proper resources. The real challenge involves securing adequate funding and generating political will to transform small-scale successes into comprehensive nationwide relief systems. Compassion works better than criminalization.
Even when RV homelessness solutions demonstrate clear success, expanding them encounters formidable obstacles that have little to do with practical implementation. Funding presents the primary barrier. Safe parking programs, mobile services, and low-cost RV communities demand consistent budgets that many cities refuse to guarantee. Without secure financing, even thriving pilot programs remain perpetually vulnerable, one budget vote away from elimination.
Political resistance creates the second major hurdle. Homeowners associations, business coalitions, and neighborhood groups routinely mobilize against new programs before they launch, citing concerns about property values and community image. NIMBY politics, "not in my backyard," systematically destroys proposals before they receive fair testing.
Federal policy gaps compound these challenges. While funding exists for traditional shelters and low-income housing, no specific resources target vehicle dwellers. They occupy a bureaucratic wasteland: too housed for certain assistance, yet too homeless for others, trapped in administrative limbo. Regulatory red tape provides the final obstacle. Site selection, utility installation, and multi-agency coordination can consume years, allowing urgent projects to stagnate or collapse entirely. The devastating result: a fragmented patchwork of small local programs, while the broader crisis accelerates exponentially. Most RV dwellers remain trapped in cycles of displacement and uncertainty, abandoned by systems that prefer criminalization over compassion. Proven solutions exist. Political will doesn't.
The RV homelessness crisis demands urgent action, but the road map forward isn't complicated. It requires transforming proven strategies into widespread policy. Expand safe parking programs nationwide. Federal or state funding could establish secure lots in every major city. This single change would eliminate the constant terror of citations and impoundment while connecting residents to services that facilitate transitions into permanent housing.
Reform exclusionary zoning laws to permit low-cost RV communities on underutilized land. Vacant lots, abandoned shopping centers, and closed commercial sites could become affordable parks with basic electrical and water hookups, providing stability without massive construction expenses. Eliminate the discriminatory 10-year rule. Replace arbitrary age restrictions with condition-based inspections, ensuring well-maintained older RVs aren't automatically excluded from campgrounds. Launch vehicle maintenance assistance programs similar to housing repair grants. Keeping RVs safe and functional costs far less than providing emergency shelter after catastrophic breakdowns. Update federal homelessness definitions to fully recognize vehicle dwellers, unlocking housing assistance, healthcare access, and support services currently denied to this population. No single policy solves this crisis, but implemented together, these changes could transform RV living from desperate survival into a dignified stepping stone toward permanent housing. The solutions exist. Political courage remains the missing ingredient.
Every aging RV tucked behind warehouses or lining industrial streets, an unbearable weight of the cost of living on their shoulders. Some people have turned to living in RVs as a way to get by. The problem is finding a place to park long-term. One area in Calgary has become a subject of controversy. CTV's Kathy Lee spoke with people there who say they are worried about their survival. Kathy?
It represents far more than transportation. It's someone's home and often their final barrier against sleeping on concrete. The residents defy comfortable stereotypes. Veterans discover their benefits can't match skyrocketing rents. Seniors watch fixed incomes evaporate under relentless inflation. Single parents choose RV living over risking their children's placement in foster care. Full-time workers sleep in vehicles because their paychecks simply cannot compete with housing costs in their communities.
The journey into RV living varies dramatically. Sometimes sudden, through medical catastrophes, job losses, or divorces. Other times gradual, as rent increases slowly outpace income until survival becomes impossible. Inside these cramped mobile homes, families navigate extraordinary challenges with remarkable resilience. Elderly residents carefully navigate steep RV steps, constantly worried about the next mechanical failure they cannot afford to repair. These aren't adventurers pursuing Instagram-worthy nomadic lifestyles. They're human beings fighting desperately to preserve dignity and basic stability in a system that has fundamentally failed them. When society stops recognizing RVs as legitimate homes, it stops seeing the profound humanity of the people struggling to survive inside them. Behind every vehicle is a story of resilience, determination, and hope.
The warning signs flash like emergency beacons. Without immediate intervention, America's RV homelessness crisis will soon dwarf today's already staggering numbers. The foundation for disaster is already set. The National Low-Income Housing Coalition reports a shortage exceeding 7 million affordable rental homes nationwide. Wages continue falling behind inflation while basic living costs surge relentlessly. Eviction protections have vanished in most states, leaving families defensively exposed to housing loss. This economic pressure cooker will inevitably push countless additional families toward vehicles as their final refuge. Aging RVs, converted vans, and deteriorating trailers will absorb successive waves of displaced Americans. Without fundamental policy reforms, these mobile homes will remain dangerously unstable, perpetually threatened by citations, impoundment, and mechanical failures.
The vulnerability extends far beyond current poverty populations. Retirees surviving on eroding fixed incomes, gig workers facing unpredictable earnings, and middle-class families in expensive metropolitan areas all teeter on the precipice. What policymakers dismiss as a fringe issue actually previews the potential fate of millions more Americans. The future hinges on a critical societal choice. Will we treat RV dwellers as neighbors deserving stability and support, or as nuisances to be criminalized and hidden from view? That decision will determine whether RVs serve as temporary lifelines toward housing recovery or become America's final stop before complete destitution.
The faces behind America's vehicle homelessness are not strangers. They are neighbors, co-workers, and loved ones. They live in constant uncertainty, one tow or ticket away from losing it all. We would love to hear your perspective in the comments. In our next video, we'll expose the little-known RV laws most owners break without realizing it and the steep price they pay.