Tuesday, August 25, 2009

What a Long, Strange Trip it's Been

The vintage Airstream. The significant guy and I have been pining for one for over a year now. We finally found a 1965 Airstream Tradewind, 24' long and in great shape. It was 236 miles from our home and we enlisted a friend to help us get it.

Our trip went a little something like this...
1:00 pm - Friend off of work. Get clothing, tools and dog loaded into the car.
2:00 pm - Met friend at his house and all items, including dog have been transferred to friend's truck. Sudden feeling of bringing dog a bad idea.
2:30 pm - Drop off dog back at the house. Meet back at friend's house.
3:30 pm - Leave town. Hit traffic and multiple lights at outskirts.
5:00 pm - Eat lunch (finally)
8:45 pm - Arrive at destination. Too dark to look at the Airstream. Will try tomorrow morning. Park truck. Battery is running very low. Difficult to restart.
10:00 pm - Eat dinner and have some brews at friend #2's house.
2:00 am - Sleeping soudly. Friend #2's cat jumps on face. 30 minutes later, cat runs over body. 30 minutes later, jumps on face. 1 hour later, parakeets begin to chirp and play with bell-like toys. Dog licks shoulder. Repeat often, alternating critters. All night.
9:30 am - Tired. Want to strangle all of friend #2's animals.
11:30 am - Finally make it out to where the Airstream is located. Love it, and buy it. Discover that a wire adapter is needed for the electrical portion of the hitch.
12:00 pm - Arrive at parts store and find parts needed. Decide to get friend #1's truck battery tested. Alternator is shoddy. Buy new alternator.
1:00 pm - Back at Airstream. Begin to replace alternator. Discover the wrong alternator part was sold to us. Cannot get the old alternator back into engine. Call friend #2 to meet us and give us a ride back to the parts store.
2:30 pm - Friend #2 arrives and takes us to the parts store. Receive the correct alternator.
3:00 pm - Back at truck and Airstream. Significant guy and friend #1 perform amazing tactics in changing out alternator and figuring out wiring issues with Airstream hookup. Stomachs growling. Strong sun, 102 degrees outside.
5:00 pm - Finally ready to hit the road. En route on the interstate, the skylight cover flies off the Airstream. Oh well.
6:30 pm - Stop in po-dunksville to eat. Food takes 45 minutes to "cook". (Do they kill the cow on the spot around here?)
8:00 pm - Back on the road. Stop 30 minutes later, some parts on Airstream are flying around loosely. Stop to affix loose parts back to Airstream. Stop again. Strange knocking noise coming from the wheel shaft. Oh well.
9:15 pm - Smell burning oil. Stop again to check friend #1's truck engine. Nothing unusual spotted. Hit the road.
11:00 pm - Stop by parent's house to drop off Airstream. Have a beer and converse. Wish we were home.
12:00 am - Depart and trudge on toward home. About 15 minutes into the drive, rear tail lights on truck go out. Then dash lights go out. Stop on side of road to fix the fuses. Off again.
2:30 am - Arrive home. Dirty, must shower. Pass out...

It's true...Good things don't come easy. Glad we didn't bring the dog.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Hats Off to You

Hats were once wearable art forms here today, gone tomorrow. They came in many shapes, sizes, styles and colors back in the day. But before they were merely wearable art, hats were indications of status and protected one from the elements. Women were required to wear them as a means of looking "appropriately dressed." When I don my vintage hats nowadays, I receive very strange looks.

What happened to these beautiful creatures? They are rarely if not ever seen adorned atop of a person's head. I have found myself collecting these lost art forms--secretly wishing that we have a resurgence in hat fashion, where it is an acceptable fashion accessory. Check out the latest unique revivals with Bonnie's Knitting, Katarina Couture, Creations by Gail, and Hey Sailor! Hats.

Thursday, August 6, 2009

A Comparative Study on Boxes

We as a society are inclined to boxes. We live in a stationary box. We transport ourselves to work in a box on wheels, in order to pay for the stationary box. We spend most of our days at work in a mini box amongst other similar looking mini boxes--all encompassed inside of a large box. We get stuck in a routine, and as a result, we tend to think inside the box.

Unfortunately, we identify ourselves entirely too much on these boxes. The boxes become who we are. It's our nature. And I can't stop myself from sharing how two of our most commonly used boxes pair up. To be continued...
Dusty 1970s Buick hiding in the neighboring woods.
Yellow Zebra 1970s Volkswagen Thing resting at its 1930s bungalow.