When I think about the whole Trailer Project, you know what gives me pause? The responsibility? The money that will inevitably be spent? The daunting task of driving across the country with a 5,200 lb antique? My Dad’s wrath if I wreck the family treasure? No. Well, actually Yes to all of them. But the Real Scary Thought is that (God’s Voice) I will build it … and no one will come. Now, that would be an epic  DISASTER.

So, I am opening up the Cause. I need help. I need talent. I need ya’ll to get invested in this so that you will actually show up and have Fun there when it is all done.

Consider this the all-hands-on-deck call. I need your contribution: time, ideas, talents, energy, support, whatever.  If you are willing to give something of yourself to the Trailer Project, then you are Part of it.

Give as you are able. I need design help, builders, visionaries, dreamers, company on a 2,315 scary-and-fun -as-hell road trip. I need to locate the perfect piece of land in Central Texas- less than 2 hour drive from Downtown Houston. I need iPod playlists, folks. I need support and enthusiasm.  I need people to keep me from going back to my responsible, practical ways. Keep me (dis) honest.

First step: I need brainstorm input on what would make a get-away a place you would want to go to. I need you to be part of the journey and the destination.

And it needs to be Fun.

Perhaps you heard about my near- apocalyptic 2008? If not, skip it. It is behind us now.

So. 2009. Having lost all rational fear, resistance to risk and much of my sanity (see 2008) I decided I need to have FUN in 2009. It is clearly time to cash in on my inheritance.

Now, some people get bequeathed fancy jewelry, some people get choice real estate, others receive 50 years worth of National Geographic and Reader’s Digest.

I pity them.

I hit the Mother Load of Inheritance. Rather, I hit the Father Load, to be more accurate.

My Daddy, bless him, bought a 1950 Spartan Royal Mansion Travel Trailer w-a-y back in 1949 as a returning GI. The Cadillac of silver bullet trailers. Yessiree. And he is giving it to ME. 
So…hooo. I got myself a 5,200-pound 33-foot behemoth of a trailer. Did I mention that said jewel is currently abiding in Salem, Oregon, while I happen to live Deep in the Heart of Texas?  Might as well also come clean and drop in that I’ve never driven anything bigger than my 2000 Jetta.

No problem. Because I am having FUN in 2009. What could possibly be more fun than an insane, likely dangerous and highly dubious project concerning a subject you know little-to-nothing about coupled with a non-existent budget? That is a Westerners idea of Bliss, you Eastern Zen-types.

I mean, all I have to do is move the damn trailer 2,315 miles across the country (It’s only 33 feet plus the 17 foot 1980 Ford Econoline Van!) Find a temporary place to stash it (Um, I live downtown), restore the MF, buy some land, landscape the Hell out of it, and my iconic retro-modern get-a-way will be the Envy of Everyone. (Mwa-ahh -haa-haa  evil-genius laugh obviously obligatory here.)

Hummmm.

I feel I need to elaborate a teensy bit on the whole 2008- scared- me-to-near-death thing... Ya’ll: I now laugh in the face of small chartered planes, certified letters from the IRS, mammograms, and the health risks associated with movie theater popcorn.  I’m corrupt, man. Nothing scares me anymore. This might not actually be a good thing (survival instincts blah, blah, blah, responsible role model, etc.)

But WTF. It is what it is. And I’m scared of NADA, people. Do your worst- or your best- either way. BOO. I won’t blink.

So, on the one hand, I got a trailer. On the other hand, I got nothing to lose. Let the FUN begin.