I had a recurring dream as a child. I would be traveling around the country in my Barbie Dream Camper with my best friend, Cathy, and our boyfriends…. At the time mine was Paul McCartney and her boyfriend was Donny Osmond. I did not come from a family that vacationed. We never went on trips except the occasional tag along with my father, who was a traveling salesman. I remember we once went to Blind River… vacation capitol of Ontario.
No offense to Blind River.
I have always been into history and I love vintage and retro things. I bought my 1960 Pink Rambler after I had a car stolen. It was an incredible ride while it lasted. Eventually my beautiful car was mechanically beyond repair so it sits on my property.
Since I bought my farm house outside of the city I have plenty of space to accumulate old cars and trucks and campers to sit rusting on the lawn; the stereotypical right of passage for those that live in the country. The property already had a stationary trailer so I painted it like a Diner and we’ve used it as a rehearsal space for bands and currently a pop up Vintage clothing shop. Even though the Rambler is not road worthy anymore, I call it “Art”. He will deteriorate and rust and I will become that person surrounded by beautiful rusting and twisted metal.
I decided to finally pursue my dream of owning a camper and began scouring all the buy and sell newspapers and online auctions. I did this for five years and found nothing. The trailers that were listed were too expensive, too far away, or in need of a huge overhaul to have them road worthy. I almost gave up but then a friend sent me a listing that was close by. I went and looked at it and it needed a bit of work but had such potential that I bought it on the spot.
I hitched it up to my truck and towed it home where I would renovate and decorate the interior. Thank god for my supportive father in law, Bruce, who, along with a buddy, put in all the necessary finishing touches to make sure it was leak proof and ready for painting. My little trailer went from bland to wow.
This is what it looked like before
This is what it looks like now
I’ve never been a tiny space person… or at least I didn’t think I was …until I began using my , little tennis ball of a trailer, as a living space for four months during the summer.
I was working on a television series in the city and no longer had an apartment so my trailer became my living space during the week and I only came home on the weekends.
It is amazing how we humans can acclimatize almost immediately. I hung my nicer clothes on cupboard knobs and filled my sink with toiletries. I had access to the office and studio at night, which had washrooms and a private shower. All of my clothes were neatly folded on a top bunk… for the first week… and then I was a teenager again. I somehow managed. My Quaker parrot, Mr. Pickles, was living with me in the trailer, chatting away and acting like it was his giant bird cage.
The use of string lights and electric candles on timers made my space magical. I have a good size double bed in my trailer so it is comfortable to sleep.
When the set called a “wrap” at night everyone would be warming up their cars to head home and I simply sauntered across the parking lot to my tiny apartment.
The thought of not being able to go home to the farm depressed me but once I entered my trailer and shut the door I felt like I was no longer at work. It became my tiny apartment where I could sip wine and watch Netflix on my computer. When the season ended and the work was done, I hitched my trailer up to my truck and returned home. Now I could use my trailer for pleasure and not just work.
My partner and I attended a music festival that he was playing at and we stayed the night, parked beside a little stream. Stepping out into the starry night filled with music; eventually, stumbling back into our dry and comfortable sanctuary to sleep was heaven.
The next day, kicking the door open; hung over with curlers in my hair and a smoke clenched in my teeth…..
OK that didn’t happen.
I was definitely hung over and feeling raunchy, but when I flash back to the days where I woke up in an over -heated tent with flies buzzing around my face and a rancid smell, this glamping experience is all the more fantastic.
I am definitely too old to do the tent thing. I love camping and the adventure of traveling to a different part of the country but I want to do it in style. I want all the comforts when I throw open my door and experience nature. I’m tired of staying in crappy little motels.
My little trailer has a gas stove, a sink with a water tank, a fridge and a microwave. I’ve used the microwave and fridge but never the stove.
The whole world beckons me… at least the world within driving distance. Maybe I will plan a trip to the desert or the ocean or the mountains; wherever I go I will be surrounded by vintage florals, snacks and some good wine and the new friends I will make.
You are never too old to realize a dream.
Maybe I ‘ll see you out there in my Barbie camper. Paul McCartney still is not my boyfriend but I’d rather have the trailer… no offense to Paul.
“I’m a gal of means by no means… Queen of the road”!