Wheel Estate : Recovery: When the Jan. 17 quake struck, some went from 3,000-square-foot luxury homes to 32-foot motor homes. And despite the cramped circumstances, they are doing just fine.

It’s more Sedan De Ville than Hooverville, located--after all--in the upscale Devonshire Country Estates section of Northridge.

Even so, it is still one of scores of makeshift encampments from the Jan. 17 earthquake that tumbled without prejudice the homes of the rich, the poor and the comfortable. Like thousands of the newly homeless, these folks have a renewed appreciation for privacy, the flush toilet and the hot shower; they string extension cords to draw electricity from nearby homes, cook their meals outdoors and face weeks or months on the streets.

At first glance, they look to be going nowhere fast.

But put away the hankie, stick the casserole back in the freezer, cancel the bake sale.

This group of a dozen or so have gone from 3,000-square-foot luxury homes to 32-foot motor homes and they are doing fine, thank you, under the circumstances.

“We’re learning now to live in close quarters,” said resident Linda Gutierrez, who is sharing a rented RV with her husband, 14-year-old daughter and 9-year-old son while workers repair their home. “It’s less privacy; everybody was used to their own room and having a family room and a den. Now, we have basically one room.”

And a narrow one at that. But inside the 32-foot Executive motor home, Gutierrez’s son, Kris, has put a sign showing the family’s resignation to their circumstances: “Motorhome Sweet Motorhome.”

More evidence is tacked to the side of the RV’s fridge--the school lunch menu and a birthday party invitation.

Up front, behind the driver’s seat, is the Gutierrez living room, complete with TV and videocassette player. At night, it’s the couple’s bedroom. The kids sleep a few feet away, just past the kitchen.

For a family used to separate TVs, separate rooms--the luxuries of private space--the changes have been dramatic, but not without some benefit, especially for the children who must relearn the basics of sharing and compromise, she said.

“Suddenly we are part of a group of people who are displaced,” said Gutierrez, whose black BMW is parked next to the family’s temporary home. “For us, it’s a reality check. We are experiencing a way of life that is permanent for many others. For us, it is temporary.”

Down the street, Bill Bowser is less philosophical about his new RV lifestyle.

“I’m 6-foot-4 with a 5-foot-10 bed . . . I can’t sleep worth a damn,” said Bowser, an electrical contractor. “These things might be OK for a weekend, but they’re too small to live in.”

The new RV crowd in the neighborhood agree that they have more to be thankful for than many others left homeless by the quake. Most have earthquake insurance that will pay for the bulk of repairs to their homes, which are estimated to run between $100,000 and $250,000, as well as the costs of renting the motor homes.

Bowser and his neighbor, Beverly Brownell, spent part of a recent afternoon explaining why they choose trailer life over renting a nearby house or apartment while their homes are being fixed.

For one thing, rentals now are not that easy to find. But more importantly, they said they want to be close to their homes, watching over repair crews during the day and keeping a watch against thieves at night.

“This is my home, whether I’m in a car or a motor home, I’m staying here,” Brownell said.

Bowser agreed, saying, “Everybody else can leave, but I’m staying here.”

The neighbors compare notes over the progress of repairs. Bowser got some bad news this week--the last of his two chimneys will have to be replaced. He shrugs and Brownell sympathizes.

“We’ve learned that you can’t see the home’s internal injuries until you start pulling out pieces,” she said. “It really is a can of worms.”

The biggest benefit, so far, is “we can’t feel the aftershocks,” said Brownell. An optimistic perspective, considering the reason is that everything--from the wind to passing cars to turning over at night--starts the RVs rocking.

The Gutierrez family got a respite this past weekend when they spent a night in a suite at a local hotel.

The brief vacation came after family members had reached a point where “we throw up our hands and said, ‘I can’t do this anymore,’ ” said Gutierrez. “It really gave us a break. There were doors.”

Down the street, retired trucking company owner Tony Sica watched as crews slathered stucco over a repair to his garage. Sica’s contractor estimates that it will be another six months before his house is completed.

In the meantime, Sica and his wife, Mary Ann, sleep each night in the 33-foot motor home parked in their driveway. Unlike other retirees, Sica said he never once considered using an RV to travel the country.

“It’s really not my cup of tea,” said Sica, who logged his share of miles on the road during his career. “But I just don’t feel like staying in a hotel for six months.”

Rather than rent, Sica went ahead and bought his new rig, which carried a sticker price of about $84,000. He says he may even keep it after his house is done. If he sells, he will be able to advertise low mileage.

“I picked it up from a place on Sepulveda and brought it home,” he said. “About seven miles. That’s all the driving I plan to do.”