WELL! LONG TIME NO SEE! My fault, I know. I’m not so good at staying on the blogging train.
So…. big news:
I am now the proud parent of a 1948 Spartan All-Aluminum Trailercoach!
I had originally found this shirt, and was proudly wearing it at home when my father mentioned one of his friends liked to refurbish little teardrop trailers. We went to go admire them, and on the way back, Dad asked if I wanted to see one he had driven by several times and noticed.
I hadn’t expected to come home for this visit and find such a little gem, but fate happens, and ever since Mandi from Vintage Revivals showed me this little nugget, I have been wishing upon the stars for the opportunity to refurbish one someday.
Lucky me, my dad knew just the one.
It has been sitting for quite some time on a little fenced piece of property outside of Caldwell, ID. And when my dad told me he knew who owned the lot, I was really hoping my wallet could afford the price tag for such a beautiful trailer. Luckily (and with my hubby’s permission) I did, and we set to work hauling it home.
We had to drag it out of the corner of the yard it was in, and all I can say is: Hornets=Minions of Satan. Unfortunately, they’d taken up a pretty solid residence in said trailer, and we were fighting with them for dominance almost every second. Of course, I can’t really blame them. It is after all a warm, shiny place to live, I suppose. And just FYI… WD-40 kills them better than any can of Raid I’ve ever used. You’re welcome.
We took off the wheel skirts to jack it up and change the wheels (they were flat) and after a small fiasco with the bolt pattern, we learned the holes were stripped. We could only put 3 lug-nuts on one wheel, and 2 on the other. Ouch.
So I followed Dad home with my hazard lights on, jamming out to the radio, when about a mile or so from the house at the last major intersection before the home stretch, the left wheel popped off and made it’s way lazily across the road. Laying on the horn, I pulled over and retrieved the offending wheel while the truck behind me took on the task of following dad through the intersection and trying to tell him he was driving wheel-less.
I suppose he figured he’d take his chances, because the rest of the way home, I followed little pieces of axle spring home until I saw the fireworks display happening under the left side of the camper, shortly before turning into my driveway. I hopped out, and looked for fire but thankfully there was none.
And in true dad form, completely unconcerned with impending fire, I hear, “Man, isn’t that a nice trailer, it towed wonderfully! Even with the wheel gone! Joyce, I know this is going to be a good trailer!” Sigh. My dad.
What do you think? Am I crazy or what?