Day 31: The Day of Boxes, BackDecks, and Awkward Conversations

Today I plan to return to REI for my Yakima EXO Gear Locker and hopefully also pick up the TopShelf, BackDeck, and a few smaller items I ordered, like a fanny pack and a picnic table. First, though, I had to check out of my Airbnb. Tonight’s stay would be different, my first ever reservation of its kind: just a single rented room in someone’s house, chosen for one reason—driveway parking. Not my ideal setup, but after weeks on the road, being able to safely park and organize Ashley mattered more than privacy.

The day didn’t unfold as smoothly as I imagined. At REI, the coveted curbside spots were gone, so I ended up across the street in the overflow lot but found a cool, shaded spot. The timing was later than yesterday—closer to 1:30 p.m.—and the heat was pressing in. The line inside was shorter, but the team that had helped me before wasn’t around. Instead, a friendly man at customer service offered to assist. When I asked if Ashley was working, he smiled—“She’s my girlfriend. Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered.”

The TopShelf had arrived, but the BackDeck was still in transit. I explained that Ashley had told me there might be one in stock from an unclaimed order. He suggested we first deal with the Gear Locker, then figure it out. Outside, I noticed both curbside spots were now open and tried to move Ashley into one— but the fit was so tight, I gave up and circled back to the over flow lot. To my disappointment, my original shaded spot was now taken and I’m left with an uncovered one. With the sun beating down and Max restless from the heat and distracted by a nearby dog, everything felt clumsy. The TopShelf box was too bulky to fit inside the SUV, the Gear Locker awkward to maneuver, and I was juggling Max, the heat, and the gear all at once.

Still, things came together. We unboxed the Gear Locker and installed it—much easier than the SwingBase had been. Back inside, Ashley herself helped us track down the BackDeck. We carried it out, unboxed it, and—brilliant design—it fit perfectly inside the Gear Locker. Finally, after days of pickups, I had everything I needed.

With hours to kill before my Airbnb was ready, Max and I drifted around Eugene. Driving felt strange now; when in reverse, the sensors kept detecting the new gear as an obstruction, setting off the self-braking system at random, which startles both Max and me. I stopped for gas at Costco, made a quick return at Nordstrom Rack, then slowly made my way toward the Airbnb.

The neighborhood was older, with narrow streets and small driveways. My host’s driveway already had a car parked in the space she’d promised me. When I pulled up, she stepped outside with a concerned look. “That’s a big car,” she said, surprised. She helped me guild Ashley into the spot next to her car. I made a comment that I would need to back my car out to retrieve Max’s leash as I know the door wouldn’t open with two cars on the driveway. After a pause, she kindly moved her own car to the street so I could have more space for.

Inside, the room and bathroom I’d rented were tidy enough, but the kitchen sink was full of dirty dishes and the floors felt gritty despite her “no shoes inside” policy. I kept my socks on. She asked that Max stay off the couch, so I knew I would need to have him confined to the room or leashed for the entire stay, which was going to be a bit of an inconvenience.

Our small talk soon wandered into heavier topics. She shared that her last guest had an Airstream “full of stuff” and then launched into thoughts about consumerism and her hope that Mother Earth would wipe out civilization in 20 years. She dismissed many of the observations I shared about the Pacific Northwest—whether from my friends or my own experiences—with a flat “they don’t know what they’re talking about.” She also made a few comments about cost of living having gone up due to Californians relocating to Oregon, driving up costs, that she now struggles financially and can no longer afford to eat out. It was awkward, and after a while I steered the evening toward walking Max instead of more conversation.

Back at the house, I unpacked the trunk, reorganized my camping gear into the new box, and retreated to my room. On the dresser I noticed a list of house “rules,” including mention of a key I’d never been given. When I asked, she admitted she’d forgotten. She also shared she had a renter downstairs. Putting pieces together, the impression was clear: she hosted mainly for financial reasons, house hacking at it’s finest.

I showered, messaged her a polite thank-you and an apology in case Max barked, then closed myself in for the night. She replied, reassuring me that Max didn’t seem like a barker—though she asked I keep him quiet for the sake of her downstairs renter.

It had been a long, uneven day—one of bulky boxes, heat, and awkward conversations. I was grateful to finally settle into bed with Max by my side.