Vintage Curtains Don’t Belong in the Wash

We finally came to interior renovations, although the first update was an accidental one. After all the effort put into the Airstream, the interior still appeared almost exactly the same as the day we bought it—unfortunate faux wood paneling, yellowing curtains, and upholstery only a senior citizen could love.

The original curtains were dusty and slightly moldy to complement their once-white hue. We thought it would be fine to just throw them in the washing machine. We didn’t have the foresight to test drive just one in the wash before throwing them all in. I still wonder what came over me that day. I am usually extremely cautious when laundering different fibers/fabrics because of poor results experienced through my other hobbies, knitting and sewing.

The curtains had a vinyl-like UV protective coating on the back. This coating melted and fused to itself in the wash. They came out as a large ball of polyester. We tried to gently pull the ball apart, but the curtains were a lost cause.

We special ordered replacement curtains from a vendor we found in the WBCCI Region 1 newsletter. Delivered in a month, the workmanship was incredible. You can see the amount of pleating involved in the picture above. The new curtains completely brightened the space, and our privacy was restored.

Scouting for Gaucho Fabric

I recently ventured to Zimman’s in Lynn, MA with my friend Joy. She was there to buy silk to fashion into hot pink balloon curtains for her bedroom. Zimman’s is an upholstery and fabric store established in 1909. During my visit, I felt like I had traveled to a bygone era. I have never witnessed such knowledgeable sales associates. Joy needed advice because the curtains she imagined were complicated. The salespeople spent close to an hour explaining the challenges of her intended project.

While she was huddled with them, I wandered through the fabrics, hoping to find something to reupholster the front pullout couch (official Airstream term: gaucho). Whatever we pick will be on full display as one of the primary design elements in the interior. We aren’t quite at a place where we can make the purchase because we’ve yet to determine a color palette. Vote for your favorites in the comments, and we’ll take it all into consideration as we debate the color scheme.

Bamboo Underfoot

We installed a bamboo floor over the old faux wood linoleum tiles that existed before. The bamboo was a snap together system from Ikea, which ran only around $100 for the whole job (about 55 square feet). With the new floor, we have taken our first step out of the 70s. It feels good!

Obligatory Resolutions: Airstream Goals for the New Year

The biggest task I have planned for this spring is to replumb the entire trailer with Pex plastic tubing. The plumbing has never worked 100%, and there is a leak in one of the drainpipes. To fix this I will need to remove part, or perhaps the entire, belly plate to reach the pipes. Once I remove the belly I might as well sand and paint the frame to halt the considerable rust. My goal is to have this work done by April so I can have the trailer ready to bring to whatever campsite we choose in May and camp most weekends in the summer.

Repairs for later in ‘08:

• Replace refrigerator
• Replace air conditioner
• New lighting (probably some track lighting from Ikea)
• New, quieter vents
• New inverter, to help charge the battery

Making It Seaworthy

The Airstream leaked like a sieve. Sealing the exterior is not that simple. The water finds its way into the outer shell and travels within the cavity of the walls. There is no correlation between where the leak in the skin is and the resulting interior leak. Therefore we had to seal the entire skin, every window, and the door. This task took almost two months.

Because the skin is made of aluminum, you can’t use regular caulk. We had to use a special product, Vulkem sealent by Tremco, which we had to order since it couldn’t be located at local hardware stores. We used this to seal large gaps around windows and doors. We applied Parbond using an actual medical syringe into the tight fitting seams of the skin’s aluminum panels. Lastly, we had to buy a special gasket from Vintage Trailer Supply.

Since the trailer stood untouched for 9 years, the continuous leaks caused a section of the subfloor to completely rot out. Once we completely sealed the skin we were able to cut out the section of rotted subfloor and replace it with new plywood.

The sense of accomplishment after all of this was a little muted. One couldn’t tell on the surface that we had done any work!

Urban Airstreamers? Not Entirely.

Living far from our Airstream has been an ongoing challenge during restoration. I had a vision of finding a place in Boston where I could store the trailer and work on it. Leading up to the purchase, I never considered that this might be a problem. Finding an adequate home for a 30-foot trailer in Boston where parking spaces for cars can run $150 a month has proven impossible. We park the trailer 70 miles away at my parents’ house. And thus, it has been relegated to a weekend hobby. I plan everything in advance and drive down on the weekends for implementation. The first summer I would often run into roadblocks that caused me to stop working completely and blow a whole weekend. Driving down to Rhode Island so frequently has quickly become taxing, making a labor of love into a chore.

A second unforeseen problem has been the working relationship with my father. My weekend hobby has, by default, become his weekend hobby. I have been unbelievably grateful for having his assistance. He has mechanical knowledge that CampyLady and I simply do not. He has wrapped up small jobs that we started on the weekend and could not finish before heading back.

The conflict comes in our working styles. I spend the week beforehand fastidiously investigating a project. I try to make up for my lack of mechanical experience with tons of research and go into each task with a clear agenda. My father tends to attack without strategy. This would be fine, except both of us want to be the project manager. We argue about every step of every project. This usually results with one or both of us storming off. The bickering also drives CampyLady crazy. She scurries away when conflicts arise, causing her to not be as involved with the Airstream as she would like.

I feel like if I could just keep the Airstream in Boston, I would be able to fiddle with it in the evenings after work or for half days on the weekends.

I’m still on the lookout. All I need is a secure spot nearby Jamaica Plain for a 30-foot RV with water and electrical hook-ups. Storing my tools at the site would be preferable. And it’s got to cost next to nothing so I can devote my discretionary spending entirely to the Airstream. Is that too much to ask?

On the Hunt

Finding our trailer almost cost me my job. Admittedly, once I have an idea that I am excited about I have a hard time thinking of anything else. After we made up our minds we wanted an Airstream rather than some generic RV I became obsessed. I scoured the internet, Ebay, and classifieds every day. My lunch hour searches at work spilled into the afternoons and soon after consumed my mornings as well. I felt like every time my boss came by my desk I was frantically minimizing Ebay watches. This went on for months, and if my boss wasn’t so supportive of the Airstream endeavor I am certain there would have been reprimands.

The largest selection of vintage (35 years or older) Airstreams was on Ebay, but most of those were located prohibitively far to travel. I couldn’t imagine buying and shipping one thousands of miles based on blurry photos and the word of a stranger. In March 2006, I came across an ad on Craigslist for a ‘72 Overlander in Jackman, Maine. I had no idea where Jackman, Maine was but a trailer within possible driving distance was too good to pass up. I contacted the seller and set up an appointment to visit it. Northern Maine was still fully in winter, and we drove 7 hours to the Canadian border to see this trailer. I was so excited that I had already made my mind up that I was going to buy it while still riding up.

Once in Jackman, we became the only car on the road. The radio DJs suddenly spoke French. Hundreds of snowmobiles and an occasional US border patrol zoomed in every direction. We got to the mouth of the driveway and had to continue on foot through knee-deep snow. What we found, unfortunately, was a rust-, mold-, and rodent-friendly trailer that looked as if it hadn’t been used in years. Although we were disappointed, I was still planning on buying it due to the fact that it seemed like the only available trailer in New England. Is This Our Baby? shows a slideshow from the adventure. I’m relieved I reconsidered.

Shortly after our trip to Maine a friend introduced us to Clark and Michelle, another young couple in Boston who owned and restored their own vintage Airstream. They were members of the Wally Byam Caravan Club. They knew about a fellow club member who was selling two trailers in Boylston, MA, only 35 miles from our house. We jumped at the opportunity to see the trailers and soon had the pleasure of meeting the owners.

Everett and Evelyn had been Airstream owners for close to 50 years. They had traveled the US and owned 3 trailers, a ‘68 Safari, a ‘71 Ambassador, and an ‘86 Excella. In their 80s, they decided to downgrade to just one trailer and were selling off all but the ‘86. We spent three weekends with them while preparing the ’71 for towing and learned every minute repair ever made on each rig (he kept immaculate records). In mid March 2006, we took home the 1971 Ambassador for $4000. This Is Our Baby! is a pictorial account of our first encounter with the Airstream that would become ours.