When the car becomes our only “home”

” Welcome to our house. »

The tone is sarcastic. In the halo of street lamps, we can see the bitter smile of Roger Migneault. With a wave of his hand, he points to an old sand-colored Chevrolet pickup truck, a 2011, parked at the very back of the enormous Belisle truck stop parking lot in Mirabel.

His “home” since May.

During the day, he parks near the Blainville municipal library, where he spends long hours reading and doing homework. He has access to a park – his living room –, toilets and shops a few minutes’ walk away. He eats once a day: fast foodcereals, canned ravioli or cold dumplings.

On the days he puts gas, he doesn’t eat.

Every evening, he travels the seven kilometers that separate him from the truck stop where he sleeps, along Highway 15. A former trucker, the idea came easily to him. He asked permission from the boss, who agreed on the condition that he set up almost in the field so as not to disturb the heavy goods vehicles.

What little remains of Roger’s life is crammed into the Chevrolet: blankets, a pillow, a bag of laundry, a container of medicine, a computer, a few wires.

The vehicle has the advantage of being rather large. When the man sits diagonally, with his feet on the rear seat and his head on the folded back of the front passenger seat, he manages to lie down.

With the incessant noise of the highway, the sound of planes taking off from the nearby airport and the harsh light of the enormous street lamps, he barely sleeps.

At almost 53 years old, Roger Migneault has been living in his car since he was evicted from his apartment. As more and more Quebecers observe, itinerant workers interviewed by The Press.

These people are often not part of the statistics. They go unnoticed. Some work. Others receive social assistance. But their income is simply no longer enough to pay rent. They are the symptom of a worsening crisis, and not only in Montreal.

These new homeless people have a different, less marginal profile. “Yes, there are some who have consumption or mental health problems, but they managed to stay in housing until recently, even if everything was not going great in their lives,” notes Mathieu Frappier, coordinator. of the Laval Homelessness Network, which sees this as the beginning of “economic homelessness”.

“We have been saying for a long time that the face of homelessness is changing,” adds Julia Ouellet, of the Quebec Homelessness Solidarity Network. But this is all the more true since the housing crisis. »

A few weeks ago, four cars were parked in front of the Laval Emergency Shelter. People who came to use the center’s services during the day before returning to spend the night in their home on wheels.

At the Halte du coin, a shelter in Longueuil, the workers see six users passing through these days who live in their vehicles. “Before, we had one from time to time,” says Pierre-Luc Dupré, one of the clinical coordinators. People “like you and me who fall in the street and who don’t want to [ou ne peuvent pas, faute de place] living in a shelter.”

Roger Migneault’s long decline began seven years ago, when he experienced his first eviction. He lived in a semi-basement in Blainville. Cost of rent: $500. “The owner asked me to leave to leave the accommodation to his parents. Three months later, I saw his accommodation advertised on the internet for $650. »

History repeated itself in a three and a half at $635 per month. After refusing a rent increase, he received two formal notices from the landlord and left. “Two days later, the accommodation was advertised at $780. »

He moved to a studio in Saint-Janvier. And the problems piled up.

Unfit to drive trucks because of his diabetes, he was fired from his job as a cook in a CHSLD before the pandemic. Then he was diagnosed with two cervical hernias. During COVID-19, he was entitled to the Canadian Emergency Response Benefit (CERB). Then he received social assistance, of which the state quickly cut $150 by ceasing to recognize his medical constraints on employment. He was cut off from full aid in the winter when he returned to school to pursue a professional studies diploma in graphic design. He is not eligible for loans and scholarships, a program to which he already owes thousands of dollars. He went for it anyway. “All my diplomas are no longer of any use to me. I wanted to do something with my life, try to start again. »

To make ends meet, he took a few shifts a week at a pasta shop. He requested, and received for a time, financial assistance from the Municipal Housing Office.

“But I still couldn’t pay for my things. I was forced to file for bankruptcy. I stopped paying Hydro-Québec. I couldn’t do anything anymore. I didn’t even pay for food. People brought me food. »

He was ousted on 1^er May, leaving behind almost everything he owned.

A few nights ago, Roger lost consciousness. He had gone out to urinate. He fell while trying to get back into his van. When he woke up, he was on the floor.

He called a friend to ask her to check in every day. He is afraid of dying and that no one will find his body.

The last few months have been trying, both physically and psychologically. Roger is diabetic, bipolar and ADHD. He takes a battery of medications daily. In the summer, in the heat, he had to throw away insulin several times because he had gotten too hot.

“This winter, what am I going to do? Should I thaw my insulin before injecting it? »

The man knocked on all the doors. He asked for help everywhere: his MP, organizations, scholarship programs. But his numerous debts and a criminal record for an exhibitionist event dating from 2006 (for which he did not go to prison) are burdens. He wants nothing to do with going to a homeless shelter. He is on the waiting list for social housing.

Roger Migneault gave up.

He doesn’t even pretend.

He asked for a doctor’s note to take a break from school. He was so enraged that he no longer trusted himself around others.

“I don’t understand life. I can’t find my place. »

When asked what his plan is for the winter, he takes a long break. His already growling voice becomes muffled, almost muffled.

“There’s a chance I won’t be here anymore.” »