Category Archives: Mid-Life Crisis Adventures/Defeats

The Trailer God is Angry

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I HATE your trailer!

Last week I shared that, in the grips of a mid-life crisis, I hopped on a plane, flew to Denver and bought a camper.

And then, since I hadn’t exactly thought things through, I couldn’t figure out how to get it back to Kansas City.  I called a rental car company and asked if they had cars that would tow a camper.

“Yes and No,” he said.  “Our cars can tow a camper, you’re just now allowed to.”

I called U-Haul.

“Yes, we have pick-up trucks that you’re allowed to tow with,” he said.

“Great! I’ll take one of those.”

We started on the paperwork but only made it to the part where I’d be driving to Kansas City with it.

“Oh.  You’re not allowed to drive the pick-up trucks out of state,” he said.  “But, we can rent one of our moving vans.”

Arg!  I got on a plane and flew home spending the next few days trying to find some sucker friend to drive back out with me and pick up the camper.  I actually had a few volunteers for this boondoggle when my younger brother suggested I try that company from the show Shipping Wars.

This was several zip codes outside of my comfort zone, but once I’d purchased the camper I’d become a Wild Woman so thought, What the heck?  I’ll give it a try.

The first bid was $677 and I watched happily as the bids dropped in price.  That is until they hit the $400 range.  How could anybody drive a trailer 500+ miles and then return home for that price? I picked a transport “company” named B&K.  I talked to a nice young man named Kevin who promised he’d pick up the camper the next morning and get on the road.  I’d have my little mid-life crisis award within 24 hours.

Only, somewhere along the line I angered the Trailer God.  Maybe it was my description of the trailer.

When I told people I bought a camper, their eyes lit up they asked “You mean one of those shiny Airstream kinds?”

And I’d answer, “No, it’s more like the pimply-faced second cousin of the Airstream – an Aljoa.”

Whatever the cause of his displeasure The Trailer God sent his lightening bolt down to strike the trip.  Kevin emailed me to say his fuel pump went out but he’d have it repaired in a few hours and be on his way.  The next email informed me that it was a little bigger problem than a fuel pump and he’d have to wait for part and it would be 5-6 days before he could get on the road.

I called the brother who’d suggested the U-Ship-It place and he said with kindness and concern.  “I’m sure it will all be fine.”

I WISH that’s what he’d said.  His actual reply was. “Oh, man. You’ll never see that trailer again.  It’s a traveling meth lab by now.”

So, if any of you know anyone who buys meth – could you ask them to keep an eye out for my little Aljoa?  I wish I could tell you it looks like this.

MY IMAGINARY CAMPER

But it actually looks like this (which makes a much better mobile meth lab.)

MY ACTUAL 1955 ALJOA CAMPER

KILLERS DON’T WEAR FLIP FLOPS

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Tuesday, my mid-life crisis reached Code Blue status as I boarded a plane for Denver to check out a vintage camper I’d seen on-line.  Yes, you heard me right. A vintage camper.

Who am I you ask?  I can’t honestly answer that anymore.  For example, it wasn’t until I was all the way through airport security before I realized I’d walked on the floor with bare feet.  Can you imagine?  BARE FEET!

This mid-life crisis is pulling me forward, out of my rut, faster than I can think, because here I was with $5,000 cash in my purse ready to drive up to a remote cabin to meet a strange man to buy a 1955 Aljoa camper.  Sounds like the beginning of a bad slasher movie doesn’t it?

Reason returned to me before I boarded the plane and I made arrangement to meet him at a storage facility on edge of town. Except then I realized he could kill me, stuff me in the camper and store me away for eternity.

I walked down the aisle of the plane in a stupor, wondering again who I was and what I was doing. I came across an entire row of empty seats and climbed over to the window.  A little towheaded face popped up from the seat in front of me.

“Peek-A-Boo,” she shouted before disappearing.

I was pretty sure I’d figured out why this row was empty.  The piercing scream that made my ear drums vibrate in pain, confirmed my conclusion.

The little girl emerged again. I grinned and waved at her.  Most people are turned away by a screaming child, but not me.  In complete contradiction to my OCD ways,  I gravitate toward them like a fly to honey.  I love kids and everything about them.  From their chubby toes to their drooling mouths. I mean, who wouldn’t smile when a two-year-old looks you in the eye and asks with the seriousness of a nuclear scientist, “Do you have a penis or a vagina?”

But I digress.

Part-time Murderer

We landed in Denver.  I got off the plane, rented my car and headed out to meet up with Ed, the part-time vintage camper renovator/part-time murderer.   I drove straight to the storage facility (also, as it turns out, not a very good place to be carrying $5,000 in cash.)

I huddled in the corner of the office wondering which way I was going to die when the camper came into view.  As Ed emerged from his tinted windowed black pick up truck I noticed he was wearing flip-flops.  I sighed with relief.  Everyone knows killers don’t wear flip-flops.

He gave me a quick tour of my new camper.  I said it was deal and rushed him through the paperwork.

“What’s the big hurry?” he asked.

“I have a flight back to Kansas City in a couple of hours.”

“Wow.” He looked at me with admiration.  “You’re an adventurer.”

I grinned and stood up a little straighter and said “Yes.  That’s exactly who I am now.  I’m an Adventurer.”

Me and Ed-Not-A-Part-Time-Murderer