Death by Trailer.
The first eight years of our marriage we lived in a mobile home, which is a fancy name for a trailer. This trailer had its own personality, as any house that can move from one place to another easily, will. It was originally a summer trailer made for a warm climate such as Texas. This feature alone made this a very interesting home for Alaska. After surviving earthquakes and herds of voles in the trailer, we decided that we should move into a house that someone couldn't hook up to their truck and drive away with. We quickly sold the trailer and felt sorry thinking of someone else having to endure the leaky roof and the bathtub on the verge of falling through the floor.
The man who bought our trailer pulled up in a small truck and John tried to talk him out of using it to haul the 63-foot-long house. He would not be deterred. As the man pulled out of our driveway John commented that when the guy tried to drive the trailer down the North Fork hill, the trailer would overpower the truck and cause a wreck. We then left our house, passed the slow-moving trailer on the highway, and drove down the very same North Fork road to pick our kids up from a friend's house.
On the return, as we started down into the big dip on the road where the predicted wreck would occur, we saw our trailer coming down the other side. I was driving. John yelled out, "We are going to be killed by our own trailer!" I panicked and asked, "What do I do? Stop here or keep going?" John said, "Floor it." I zoomed past our house safely and we stopped at the top of the other side of the dip to watch the impending crash. The truck made it safely, only to break down further down the road, where the trailer sat abandoned for a week. It must have finally made it to its destination because it disappeared later. Our kids still reminisce about the good-old-days in the trailer. John and I are happy that we survived both living in it, and driving past it.
The first eight years of our marriage we lived in a mobile home, which is a fancy name for a trailer. This trailer had its own personality, as any house that can move from one place to another easily, will. It was originally a summer trailer made for a warm climate such as Texas. This feature alone made this a very interesting home for Alaska. After surviving earthquakes and herds of voles in the trailer, we decided that we should move into a house that someone couldn't hook up to their truck and drive away with. We quickly sold the trailer and felt sorry thinking of someone else having to endure the leaky roof and the bathtub on the verge of falling through the floor.
The man who bought our trailer pulled up in a small truck and John tried to talk him out of using it to haul the 63-foot-long house. He would not be deterred. As the man pulled out of our driveway John commented that when the guy tried to drive the trailer down the North Fork hill, the trailer would overpower the truck and cause a wreck. We then left our house, passed the slow-moving trailer on the highway, and drove down the very same North Fork road to pick our kids up from a friend's house.
On the return, as we started down into the big dip on the road where the predicted wreck would occur, we saw our trailer coming down the other side. I was driving. John yelled out, "We are going to be killed by our own trailer!" I panicked and asked, "What do I do? Stop here or keep going?" John said, "Floor it." I zoomed past our house safely and we stopped at the top of the other side of the dip to watch the impending crash. The truck made it safely, only to break down further down the road, where the trailer sat abandoned for a week. It must have finally made it to its destination because it disappeared later. Our kids still reminisce about the good-old-days in the trailer. John and I are happy that we survived both living in it, and driving past it.
posted by Denise at 10:31 PM
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