A few days before my birthday, I told Mr. Vintage "For my birthday, I would like to learn how to pull the trailer by myself." Mr. Vintage replied " Ooh...I don't know if we can afford that." Ha Ha. Isn't he clever?
You see, pulling the trailer has always been scary for me because...well, for a number of reasons which include, but are not limited to the many quirks associated with our elderly truck, the boss lady's girth, the scary construction on every single Utah highway, side street and on/off ramp and the ill-conceived notion that trailer pulling is best left up to the male species.
I finally came to the realization that Mr. Vintage doesn't like lengthy road trips and as such, if I don't take matters into my own hands and "cowgirl up," my dreams of taking my boys to every national park in the US will never come true. I decided to gird up my loins and fresh courage take... lots of girls pull trailers, I can too!
|The Boss Lady in the Country|
So last weekend we headed down to retrieve the Boss Lady from her summer vacation spot in the country. Due to the current state of the highways referenced above, we took the old road through the towns of Santaquin, Goshen and around Utah Lake. Mr. Vintage pulled over in front of the cutest vintage Sinclair station you've ever seen on a remote corner in the little outpost of Elberta, Utah. Look how cute she looks in front of it! I love vintage things together.
After we stopped for the photo op at the Sinclair, I took the driver's seat. I was quite nervous, but soon found that pulling is not very hard at all! Thanks to our 400 lb. sway bar, The Boss Lady pulls quite smoothly and doesn't wiggle a bit! I felt so accomplished as we drove over the rolling hills of the lake road and all the way home through our little town of Lehi. I slowed down around corners, stopped well in advance and even went through the european round about! All while holding on to the steering wheel while still permitting blood to flow through my fingers.
When we got home, we decided to go to the church parking lot to practice backing up. Hmmm... that got a little intense and I got a little nervous and ...well, Mr. Vintage took back over the driver's seat. Party Over.
Before moving on, let us take a moment to reflect on the beauty of the Boss Lady in the Country.
Let the insanity begin! You see, backing the Boss Lady into her slot at the side of the house involves "the right angle", some super good backing skills, some excellent direction from one who can "see both sides" and an obstacle course around the flower bed, utility boxes, the side of the house, the fence and our best tree. Needless to say, it's turned out pretty ugly on more than one occasion that we are careful not to speak of.
This was to be the crowning jewel of bad backing nights. First, the angle was way off..several times. My direction was way off...several times. The fence and the house were way too close together... well, you get the picture. After several attempts, some yelling, some naughty words (by Mr. Vintage) and lots of tears (by Vintage Trailer Lady), we accomplished getting the Qwest phone box, our best tree, the flower bed, the new truck and the Boss Lady mixed up into one big nasty bowl of stew. "We're in a pickle, Dick."
A couple of hours later...after some more tears, threats of "For Sale" signs and taking up separate corners, Mr. Vintage disconnected the truck from the trailer, hooked it back up at a different angle, and pulled the Boss Lady away from said phone box, tree and flower bed. Now we were all exhausted and in need of therapy, the Boss Lady was moved to the OTHER side of the house, along the road, where she's now been for a week. (Be warned- she is quite good camouflage for Boss Hogg and Roscoe Pico Trane to conduct stake outs.)
And as we prepared to gather up the broken remains of our vintage trailer experience and buy the aforementioned sign, we discovered that in all the commotion, we failed to notice that the Boss Lady has lost a very important appendage - perhaps even more important than the ability to be backed into her storage slot - she no longer has a door knob!
This is the night the lights went out in Georgia. This is "he who must not be named." This is "keep rowing... I hear banjos!"