Today is going to be a rambling discourse about campers. Or travel trailers, if one wants to be more accurate. I hve been looking at them for years. When my first husband, John, and I were divorced, I actually went out and bought a new one......I had discovered, much to my surprise, that I had missed camping and wanted to do it again. This brought gales of laughter to my family. My entire growing up period is comprised of camping pictures during which there is not one, NOT A ONE, that has me smiling. Because I had nothing to smile about. But if you camped in the horrid little thing we did, you probably wouldn't smile either.
My dad was cagey about it. It must have been about 1968, because Gwen was just walking. He came home with a rental tent trailer. It was gorgeous. Sink and range indoors. Big picture windows. Large enough so each of us got our own bed. When we got home from our trip, we held a "Family Meeting." Had we enjoyed it enough for Dad to go out and buy a tent trailer so we could do it more? Yes, yes, yes from the three little girl children. And what he came home with was NOT like the rental, it resembled this:
This is the outside.
This is the inside.
As you can see, there is a decided lack of any sort of luxury. No sink, no range, no mattresses. Hell, there aren't even windows on the damn thing. I don't remember what make and model it was, and these are the first pictures I've ever seen of something that vaguely resembles it.
It had HEAVY weight canvas. The kind where you had to be careful if it were raining because if you accidently touched it, the water would leach through the canvas and you would wake up with a wet sleeping bag. And an angry father.
You will also notice the lack of any sort of bathroom facility. Mom had given birth to four children, and her bladder control wasn't what it once was. Having to get up, get dressed, go outside, walk to the bathroom, do your thing, and reverse the whole process, in the middle of the night when one is half asleep, is not fun. So Dad, being an engineer, solved the problem. Maxwell House coffee can. We would wake up to the sounds of Mom tinkling into the coffee can in the middle of the night. How she managed to hit it, I will never know. I do know there were a couple of times one of us accidently hit it when we bounced out of bed in the morning. Not a pretty sight. Lots of scrubbing. And an angry father.
Not a lot of room for storage, either. So my Dad, the Engineer, solved the problem by building a wooden rack on the apron of the trailer. Into the rack he put three 55 gallon green plastic garbage cans. That was our storage. When traveling, or in bear country, there was a stick that went through the three lids, and a lock that would lock down the stick so no one could get into it. It was pretty ingenious, but keep in mind that I am a teenager by this point. My few friends that had campers had regular metal campers. We had this ghastly canvas apparition with the garbage cans locked on front. I felt like one of the Beverly Hillbillies. But without their money. And I lived in mortal fear that someone I knew would see this thing.
But, as outlandish as it may have looked, my parents took us to most of the United States in it. The only states we didn't visit were along the Eastern seaboard. Dad traveled for his job, so he hated to spend his vacation time in big cities because he had to spend his working time in big cities. And the East Coast has a lot of big cities. Besides, Dad said, he wanted to leave part of the US untouched for us to explore on our own!
Once I went away to college, a lot of things happened. Dad built a screen porch and put in a fireplace. They got central air conditioning. A color tv. And got rid of the tent trailer and bought a canned ham. I don't remember the make, but I thought it was so cool. And Mom just loved it to pieces. She called it her Little Playhouse.
Much more camping was done by Mom and Dad and my two sisters. Eventually the sisters dropped out and it was just Mom and Dad. Until they divorced. Dad got the camper and stored it at his brother Buzzy's house way up north. I think it was Big Fork? He kept it there in case any of us ever wanted to use it.
I really wanted to go camping in it, but John was totally, 100%, dead set against camping. So we never made it and Dad eventually sold it. I was really peeved at John, but figured "eh?" what can you do?
Fast forward to the year 2000. Start of a new millenium. We decided to celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary by giving each other a divorce. So I took some of the proceeds and bought a new Aliner camper. I had done a lot of research, and I thought this is what I wanted, but it never really felt comfortable to me. I eventually sold it.
Another fast forward. To the times that are now. My mother and father are both gone. After I bought presents for both of my sisters this past Christmas, kept asking about Christmas plans and received absolutely no response, I finally figured out that I am totally on my own. The two of them have always been closer to each other, and I am tired of trying so hard to break into their clique. So I had myself one whonking good cry, went through the presents, kept the ones I wanted and donated the rest. I hope they landed with people that appreciate them.
Mom left me some money. Enough to pay off most of my bills, with some left over for traveling. That's how I was able to ride the train to Dallas. And I have never stopped looking at travel trailers. Suddenly, there was Viney Rose one Saturday listed on Craigslist. The fulfillment of a dream. More later about her, but here are her pics.
