Under The Viaduct

Cadillac Man: FOR nearly 13 years between 1994 and 2007, I wandered the streets of New York, a nomad in the town where I was born in 1949. To say that I was homeless is true and yet not the whole truth. I had a mobile home of sorts — my wagon — the most recent, a grocery cart I liberated from the Costco in Long Island City. In it, I carried everything I needed: bedding, clothes, a camp stove, beach chairs, an umbrella, pots and pans, a first-aid kit and 20 or so paperbacks.

Every morning, I'd get up and say to myself: Where to today? And I'd turn my wagon either right or left and just keep going in that direction. Eventually I rolled my way through all the boroughs except Staten Island, stopping to live for a while in one place or another. I supported myself mainly by "canning" — collecting and redeeming recyclable bottles and cans. On an average day, I might make $20; on a good day, I could top a hundred.