It’s all part of paying your dues as a starving artist.
I called this thing “home” a few summers back, when I was playing a circuit of gigs in Boston, New Haven, Cape Cod and Nantucket. It was actually much more comfortable than you might imagine… although that might have been a function of the amount of alcohol I had to consume before I could fall asleep in a parking lot.
Sometimes I’d find a parking lot on the beach and wake up with the sun rise; waves crashing. Other times, a cop would bang on my window and ask me for my license. Less soothing (but still more pleasing than the sound of my alarm clock).
But the best part about sleeping in your car: you can get McDonald’s breakfast in bed if you do the drive-thru. Ain’t that some shit.