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!

Aluminuts Responds to the Environmental Question

CampyLady failed to tell me before buying a 5000 lb trailer that she was morally opposed to driving a truck capable of towing it. This has been a constant debate between us. I am certainly aware of the environmental issues involved, but disagree with CampyLady on this one point. While I concur that driving a gas-guzzling SUV around town as your primary car is a little ridiculous and not environmentally conscious, I feel that it is acceptable if you have a legitimate need. I don’t expect farmers to drive little Volkswagens. The day we bought an Airstream we had a legitimate need to own a truck.

We both take public transportation and ride bikes whenever we need to go places during the week; I feel this more than offsets our owning a larger truck. I also think that if CampyLady feels so guilty about one day driving a truck she could further offset her environmental footprint by taking 10-minute showers as opposed to the 45-minute marathons she presently enjoys.

The Airstream vs. the Environment

One of the things I have struggled with as an Airstream owner is the fact it doesn’t exactly meld with my environmentalist leanings. I’ve prided myself on commuting by public transportation, maintaining a vegetarian diet, driving small cars, camping without leaving a trace, and generally living a modest footprint in life.

When I was considering the Airstream purchase, I read that Wally Byam had manufactured the trailers to be lightweight so that a regular car could tow them. “Great!” I thought, “I won’t be one of those honkies you see on the road with an RV the size of a house pulled by 2-ton truck.”

After we made the deposit, I remembered that a sedan or station wagon in the 50s and 60s had a whole lot more towing power than one manufactured in recent years. I came to understand it’s a matter of safety to pull the Airstream with a truck capable of the job after reading the Airstream forums. Safety consciousness pulls the same weight as environmental consciousness in my head. I didn’t want to put myself, Aluminuts, and others on the road in danger by insisting on an inadequate tow vehicle. After much debate, we’ve determined the Toyota Tundra will be the front-runner when the time comes.

For now, I feel like I can put my environmental concerns to bed. Our plan for next summer is to park the Airstream in New Hampshire and visit it on the weekends shuttled by the Accord. I hold out hope that when or if we gather the funds to take the Big Trip a alternative energy, affordable, tow-worthy truck will be on the market. And yes, I know that’s more a matter of fantasy than hope. On the other hand, perhaps 6+ years of public transportation will earn me enough carbon credits to take the trip without insomnia-inducing guilt.

Above, our nephew peers out the window. Please think of his future, Aluminuts!

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?

Fun in a Trailer Park

An Airstream makes a YouTube appearance with its owner’s effort to sync his Christmas light display to the Trans Siberian Orchestra.

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.

CampyLady Responds to the Airdream

I supported Aluminuts in his endeavor for happiness through Airstream—to a point. When he came home with the idea, I was all for it. I didn’t know if we’d actually set off on the long trip, but I thought fixing up a vintage trailer would be a nifty and consuming hobby for Aluminuts. He had never had a hobby, and I’m a firm believer that one needs a hobby to be complete.

As the accountant in our relationship, I knew we didn’t have the funds to stop working and twiddle around the U.S for an extended period of time. There was tension between us during the first year or so of Airstream ownership because Aluminuts couldn’t get the idea out of his head. I drew up table charts and Venn diagrams showing there was no way we were going to save what I optimistically calculated to be a necessary $50,000 (including the purchase of a big truck).

And I don’t think we have to drag the Airstream around the country to get full use of it. We’ll come to a time in our lives when we have a backyard. The Airstream can serve as guest quarters, a studio, or a pool house. If we ever buy property in the great wilderness, the Airstream can be our cabin. And we can always park it in a campground for a summer—whether in the mountains or the beach—and have a vacation home wherever we wish.

I think we’ve come to an accord. We both recently found new jobs and are happier in our careers. We’re not quite ready to leave Boston yet, so some of the pressure is off. This summer we plan to park the Airstream in New Hampshire, and we won’t need a truck for now.