In anticipation of the Big Trip I had some girlfriends over for movie night. We went with the granddaddy of trailer flicks: The Long, Long Trailer. Ahh, the screwball antics of Lucy and Desi, capturing the 1950's in all it's beauty and f'ed up ideals.
Naturally, the whole idea was to capture the fun and glamour of vintage trailers by watching them in their native habitat. Well, much in the way The Nature Channel can remind you that cute little critters are actually wild animals...

Yeah, so the thing about the '50, entertainment-wise, anyway, is the utter predictability of the humor. The gags are not subtle, and the set up for them carefully ensures even the most dim-witted person won't miss it. That is part of what makes it comforting. The clever audience can see that Aunt Anastasia's rose trellissed driveway and landscaping is doomed.  Lucy's rock (boulder) collection and canning obsession are building up to a scene involving a narrow mountain road. 

The problem with all this gay hilarity is that, even with such clearly exaggerated antics, the issues: stopping the trailer, driving in traffic, backing up, parking, and yes, narrow mountain roads, are still alarming to the demographic of women aged 30-45 who are about to embark on a 2,500 mile 10-day trip hauling a Long, Long Trailer.
Our little group's Oohs and Ahhs over the fantastic Trailer Show scene and delight in looking at all the cool housewares in the trailer slowly turned to nervous laughter, then consternation, and finally audible gulps of wine as the ineptness of our poor protagonists makes their trailer trip a slow descent into Hell. 

Aiii Lucy, indeed. 

We turned on all the lights in the house and talked about how silly the monsters were. I mean, really, the New Moon trailer in the movie weighed over three tons! My trailer only weighs 5,200 pounds plus the hitch, say 700 lbs, well, hummmm...crap, we're probably over three tons, too. And the New Moon was 40 feet! Desi says that all the time in the movie!! Except, ahem, the real New Moon was only 32 feet, vs. my Spartan at 33 feet. Double crap. 

Well, we did add up a few obvious pluses in favor of our trip going smoothly. First off, we will not be wearing skirts 3 feet wide with matching high heels. Though we did like the pedal pusher and plaid shirt tied at waist look. 

Second, we won't be trying to make a "wonderful home" to "take care of" any men. A 50's newlywed film is bound to be sexist, but it's still tough to take. He does not even want her to drive, for pete's sake. And the gag is that he is the Nervous Nellie and she is overly confident. Which is crazy funny because, you know, he's the man. Women drivers ha ha ha. Gag me for sure. 

Finally, while our tow vehicle is not a beautiful pale yellow '53 Monterey Mercury convertible, it does have the useful addition of seat belts.  

We got our equilibrium back and we are fabulous again, thanks. And, hey, maybe we'll run into some of those helpful "trailerites" that want to be all up in your business. Or the trailer park owner who wants to back your rig in and get you all hooked up. 

For sure we can find the people who want to have a few cocktails and share snacks. Yeah, we'll be just fine, folks. It's all sunshine, Yosemite and singing out loud again. 

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