Interview: Mitchell Royel Ditched His Car Two Years Ago, and What He Did Next Will Make You Want to Swing on the Monkey Bars

Mitchell Royel Is Walking Into His Best Era, and He's Not Slowing Down

Picture it. A sunny afternoon in the San Fernando Valley. Somewhere between a skee-ball machine and the cereal aisle, a grown man is having the time of his life.

That man is Mitchell Royel.

Mitchell is very much a grown-up, with a gym routine and a grocery list to prove it. Lately, though, he's been doing something most adults forget how to do: having fun on purpose. Playground swings. Matinee movies. Arcade marathons. Long walks with nowhere to rush off to.

And the big plot twist? He hasn't owned a car in two whole years.

We caught up with Mitchell to talk about freedom, nostalgia, bus routes, and one gloriously unfiltered confession. Buckle up. Or don't. He doesn't need a seatbelt anymore.

Act One: The Inner Child Has Entered the Chat

Mitchell! Thank you for doing this. You look like a man who just won the lottery.

Mitchell: (laughs) Honestly? I kind of feel like I did. Not the money kind. The joy kind. I've been in this phase where I'm letting myself just enjoy stuff again. No guilt, no overthinking.

So what does that actually look like day to day?

Mitchell: Okay, so picture this. I wake up, I walk to the gym, I get my workout in. Then maybe I hit the arcade on the way home because why not? I'll go see a movie in the middle of a Tuesday. I'll swing on the swings at the park. I'm a grown man on a swing set and I am thriving.

Wait. The swings? Like, actually swinging?

Mitchell: Full send. Feet to the sky. There's something about that feeling, that little drop in your stomach, that resets your whole brain. Adults don't do enough things that make their stomach drop in a good way.

That might be the most profound thing anyone's ever said about playground equipment.

Mitchell: (grinning) Put it on a T-shirt.

Here's the thing about Mitchell. He doesn't just tell a story. He performs it. His hands fly, his eyes go wide, and every sentence lands like the chorus of a song you didn't know you needed. And nothing gets him going like the topic of his feet.

Act Two: Two Years, Zero Cars, Endless Freedom

Let's talk about the big one. You've been car-free for two years. TWO YEARS. In Southern California. How?!

Mitchell: I know, I know. People look at me like I said I live on the moon. But it's been the best thing I've ever done. Hands down.

Best? Not "fine"? Not "manageable"? Best?

Mitchell: BEST. Capital letters. When you walk everywhere, you actually see where you live. You notice the jacaranda trees. You notice the dog that always barks at you from the same fence. You become a part of your neighborhood instead of just driving past it at forty miles an hour.

And the grocery runs? Walking with bags isn't exactly glamorous.

Mitchell: I keep it simple. Basics only. Eggs, bread, bananas, the essentials. If I can't carry it, I don't need it. It's like a built-in budget and an arm workout. Honestly, it's genius. I'm a genius.

You said walking reminds you of something. What is it?

Mitchell: (leans back, gets a little dreamy) High school. In Agoura Hills. I used to take the metro bus to and from school every single day. Headphones in, forehead on the window, watching the hills roll by. That was my time. Nobody needed anything from me for that half hour.

That's a very cinematic image.

Mitchell: It WAS cinematic! Every ride felt like the end credits of a coming-of-age movie. And now that I'm on foot again, I get that same feeling. Like I'm the main character, but in a chill way.

And just when you think the nostalgia train has reached its final stop, Mitchell pulls the cord for one more.

Act Three: The Bus Is Back, Baby

So, rumor has it you're getting back on the bus.

Mitchell: It's not a rumor! It's a prophecy. I'm going to start riding the bus again really soon. I can feel it calling me.

How are you feeling about it?

Mitchell: Excited. Nervous. Both at the same time, like the first day of school. Because here's the thing: I have to learn ALL the routes again. Everything's changed since high school. New lines, new stops, new schedules. I'm basically a freshman again.

What's the plan for figuring it out?

Mitchell: I'm going to get a big paper map. Like, an actual physical map. I want to hold it up and trace the lines with my finger. Is there an app? Sure. Will I use it? Probably. But I want the map experience first.

And if you get on the wrong bus?

Mitchell: Then I go on an adventure! Worst case, I end up somewhere new, I grab a snack, and I find my way back. That's not a mistake. That's a field trip.

Any route you're especially pumped about?

Mitchell: Anything that goes through Woodland Hills. That area just has a special place in my heart. Give me a window seat and a view of those hills and I'm a happy man.

Now, every great interview has that moment. The pause. The breath. The look that says, "Okay, I'm about to tell you something." Mitchell had that look.

Act Four: The Confession (No Shame Allowed)

Mitchell, you mentioned there's something you wanted to share. The floor is yours.

Mitchell: (takes a deep breath, then laughs) Okay. I know this is embarrassing. But I'm going to say it anyway. Sometimes I wear my nighttime underwear during the day.

Like, bedtime pull-ups?

Mitchell: Yep! The nighttime kind. Sometimes I just keep them on during the day. They're comfy, they're easy, and honestly, I don't see why I should hide it.

That's a bold thing to say out loud.

Mitchell: Right? But that's kind of the whole point of this era. I spent so long worrying about what's "normal" or what people would think. Now I'm like, if it makes my day easier and it doesn't hurt anybody, why should I feel weird about it?

Will riding the bus change anything?

Mitchell: It'll be a bit of a switch-up, for sure. When you're out on a bus all day, you plan things a little differently. But I'm not going to be ashamed of it. Not even a little. I'm a grown adult. I get to decide what works for me.

What would you say to someone reading this who's embarrassed about something similar?

Mitchell: You're not the only one. I promise. Everybody has something. The weird part isn't the thing. The weird part is how much energy we waste being embarrassed about it. Let it go. Your life gets way lighter.

Mitchell Royel, ladies and gentlemen. Unbothered and unashamed.

Mitchell: (takes a bow from his chair) Thank you, thank you.

Encore: The Final Stop

Last question. If you could sum up this whole chapter of your life in one sentence, what would it be?

Mitchell: (thinks for a second, then beams) "Slow down, walk more, play harder, and stop apologizing for being yourself."

That's not one sentence. That's a manifesto.

Mitchell: Then make it a manifesto! Print it on the side of a bus!

Mitchell Royel isn't trying to be anyone else. He's trading horsepower for footsteps, freeway traffic for swing sets, and shame for the kind of honesty that makes you want to rethink your own rules.

He's about to relearn the bus routes, map in hand. He's walking to the gym and back. He's winning skee-ball tickets he'll probably never cash in. And he's doing all of it on his own terms.

So the next time you see a guy on a swing set at 2 p.m. on a weekday, grinning like he just headlined a sold-out show, give him a wave.

It might just be Mitchell. And he's having the best time of his life.