My neighbor, Billy, has lived for 17 years in a 20-foot-long recreational vehicle parked within a mostly industrial neighborhood in Seattle.

A 66-year-old former carpet layer and handyman, Billy says he wants to move out of his RV, but he doesn’t have the income, savings and credit or rental history to rent in Seattle’s expensive housing market. The lack of off-street space for his vehicle and city parking restrictions offer few options for leaving his home unattended while he finds employment, housing or social service assistance.

I asked Billy once if he used services designed for the homeless. He paused, then answered, “I’m not homeless. This RV is my home.”

During the last decade, I have studied how people use vehicles for shelter in Seattle. I found that a growing number of Americans, like Billy, value these mobile shelters as a form of affordable housing.

Since 2005, the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development has asked communities throughout the U.S. to report the number of people who sleep in shelters, transitional housing or public spaces on odd-numbered years, as part of a national count of the homeless.

There is no official method for counting people who live in their vehicles. Some cities’ counters simply look for condensation on windshields early in the morning, while others suggest that “you’ll know it when you see it.”

With no way to distinguish “the homeless” from seniors and retired “snowbirds” who vacation in an RV, San Diego removed RV residents from their 2019 federally reported count of all people who sleep in public spaces.

News reports from across America tell of vehicle residents from every background attempting to settle in cities. They find themselves essentially blocked from local communities and social services, because there are few parking spaces to leave their home where it is safe from tickets or from being towed.

Without official recognition, there is little political representation to protect these communities from legal discrimination, such as signs that banish them from public spaces, as well as private property seizure.

As Billy once told me, “You can really feel the squeeze out here. There’s no way out.”

In Seattle, during the last 25 years, an economic boom has driven up housing costs to unaffordable levels and, consequently, homelessness has increased.

The scale of vehicle residency in King County has nearly quadrupled in the last decade, from 881 to 3,372 people sleeping in a car, RV, school bus, truck or van. Vehicle residency was the most common form of shelter for people who lived in public space during this time, used by at least 30% of the local unsheltered community.

Without professional assistance, vehicle residents have no option besides public parking to survive. Billy, and thousands like him, could use a home for their homes.

— This column is part of The Conversation, an independent and nonprofit source of news, analysis and commentary from academic experts.