Almost immediately upon our return from Los Angeles, I was searching eBay and found a Boles Aero Montecito for sale in Paris, TX not far from our home in Little Rock.
When it didn't sell, I contacted the owner. I also contacted what was supposed to be a reputable restoration shop for advice. The shop owner and I had a lengthy conversation about the pros and cons of either a Yellowstone or this Boles Aero. He was very helpful and we exchanged many texts at odd hours and he was immediately helpful and friendly. This was wonderful, I thought, my perception would change over to time.....
After much consideration of all the information I had acquired, we decided to pursue the purchase of the Boles Aero primarily due to it's aluminum framing which would have not deteriorated and the overall weight of the trailer would be considerably less... Unfortunately, the price was not. It was $ 9,200.00 for it's original untouched deteriorate condition. It was all there. Every cabinet handle, hinge, both click clack sofas, and the body was straight with only three small dings and one broken pane of glass. It even had the original mattresses.
But. And aren't buts always too big?
It was all water damaged or dry rotted and not a single panel of wood wasn't adversely touched by the hands of time.
I began texting with the owner. He was absolutely not coming down on the price. I thought it was too high but I have now come to realize we were looking at a rare quality trailer. Not that it dawned on him. He knew Airstreams from tarting them up with tin ceiling panels and barn wood. He must have realized this was going to be a big project and just wanted his money back out of it.
The owner was very obstinate about cash only. Not meeting at a bank. Only his house. No cashiers check, no wire transfer, no PayPal, no money order, no check. *no green stamps, poker chips, gift cards, wampum, or Twinkies* my red flag was flying in a red wind, backwards and upside down!!!
BUT I WANTED THE TRAILER.....
I was not driving to Texas to what gps had mapped as a road with a loop outside of town. He wanted us to come to his house with ten grand in a bag? Really? Down some road I've never been before to deal with a stranger after declining a professional meeting at a bank? I had read one too many stories how people were murdered in Craigslist scams. Just two weeks earlier an elderly couple wanting to buy a motorhome were killed. I envisioned some drugged out beer soaked redneck hell, wife beater shirt wearing , vehicles on blocks for years, Yahoo junk hoarders, where we were going to be robbed and die!
BUT I WANTED THE TRAILER.....
Yes, I wanted the trailer but the point was to somehow live to enjoy it.
Texting has it's limitations and I became so spooked, I called it all off. The next day the man called me after his wife gave him a talking to about texting verses a conversation. He explained he wanted cash because he had paid cash buying it from a young man from Wyoming. The trailer was given to this young man as part of his severance pay when a horse ranch where he worked was sold by the elderly widowed owner. The camper was in a barn for a very long time, which explained the condition of it. He pulled it to Paris, Texas where he was from and did the only damage the trailer ever received, two vertical creases on each side of the front window caused by turning the panel truck he was driving too far right then too far left and a rear corner dent from backing up bumping a concrete pole. It was indeed, a barn find. The young man couldn't find work so he sold it to the guy we were dealing with.
We agreed to come see it but I said we weren't bringing the cash. We wanted to check it out first. He said we needed to be prepared to buy it, first come first served, no deposit, no holding it.
Who was this guy?! I would find out of course, but at the time it fed my paranoia. We thought about it for a while and I devised a plan.......
*THIS IS A VALUABLE TRANSACTION TACTIC YOU MAY USE YOURSELF*
A day and time was agreed upon to see the trailer and we traveled to Paris, TX in early January. He texted me a copy of the Title for the trailer or we never would have gone.
But we did not go directly to the seller's house. I had phoned ahead and we arrived early. I had not called the seller. I had called the Sheriff's office. I arranged for what's called a civil standby. An officer will come with you to a transaction to keep you safe but you can't make an appointment, you call when you're ready and we had. Directions were given to us on how to find the station.
Vintage trailer restoration will take you to a lot of places some you thought you would never go to, and meet people you never thought you would acquaint yourself with, or endure situations you would not have chosen to deal with. The visions of exploring nature's wonders, fun with friends and family, rally's, and impromptu road trips are what keep you going during a renovation.
And every so often reality hits you.....
We found ourselves anticipating the Sheriff's return to the station sitting in the jail waiting area. Yep, there we were, ensconced in the romantic ambience of fluorescent lighting, cinder block walls, and dead silence. Our stock straight backs and frequent side eyes 👀 were interrupted by a visitor. Buzzed in and shuffling up to the bulletproof algae green glass, was a haggered woman in a bandanna who spoke through the small slotted circle, "What's he in fer dis time?" A tinny, far off metallic voice drolled, "Drugs, Ma'am." She sighed heavily, "How longs he been in herr?" Pause .... tinny far off voice again, "Three days, Ma'am." "I guess I'll see 'em", she breathed, exasperated. Tinny voice, "An officer will buzz you in at the door to your right."
BUUUUUUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!
She slowly ambled through and almost took our eyes with her as we had fixed them on her person until the door shut her from view.
It was a long uncomfortable 45 minutes until the Sheriff arrived.
I explained to him the odd nature of the exchanges with the seller, that we indeed had the cash necessary to purchase it on the spot if we decided, and we wanted him to run the plates to see if it was stolen and to call in the title to verify it's authenticity.
He agreed and understood our concern.
It didn't help our mood that the Sheriff's office was in the bad part of town. We got in the truck and followed him through Paris and out the other side. The neighborhood had improved....
Remember, how I said your trailer would take you places you thought you'd never wind up?
The seller's McMansion was located in a gated golf course community!
??!!!!!??????!!!!!????
We followed the officer through the gate, rounded the corner, and there was the trailer by a three car garage on a circular drive. Definitely NOT what I had expected!
The Sheriff ran the plates, not stolen. Found the serial number and matched it to the title and called Wyoming to check it. It was valid.
Was this ever a relief!
We thanked the officer 👮 and he left.
All of this really shook the seller. He nervously commented on " his neighbors seeing the prowler in the drive " along with constantly chattering about the trailer and hovering while we checked it out oddly trying to sell us on it. It didn't take long to find out he owned a vehicle dealership in town, his brother recently died, and isn't it great the trailer had it's original sofas?
Here is how it looked that day. And yes, these pictures made it look better than it really was:
We gave it a close inspection. Original stove, refrigerator, sink, without a scratch on them or parts missing. Original click clack sofas. All the original light fixtures were accounted for. No pad locks on the doors. It was so untouched, the trailer brakes even had a hookup for linking to your car's hydraulic braking system.
It did not have a bathroom and I crawled under the trailer to see if holding tanks could be made to fit. Now, I'm a girly girl, hair, make up, the whole nine. But I will crawl under, over, and through something I want to buy much to surprise of those who are selling.
It seemed like it would work. I would end up arguing that point with three different men in two different shops about the feasibility of installing a privy. Maybe by two and no by one. Yes, we have one now, but the gauntlet I had to negotiate to have the distinction of never using gas station facilities again, was earned.
It was a gut job. We knew it. I had purchased an original brochure for the 1954 Boles Aero line on eBay and there were three floor plans available. One with a bathroom! We had the wide door placement but not the bath. I wanted the other kitchen layout and bed configuration. One more closet and add upper cabinets. What we knew by this time, we were going to buy it.
I went outside to negotiate the price. Nothin' doin'. Not budging not an inch.
Okay...... I had one card left to play.
I pointed out to the seller he said it was towable but I had been under the trailer and found both tires were old and had concentric cracks exposing steel belts on the inside 1/3 where rubber met the road. It might have made it to where it was but we weren't towing it home on those. The guy must have sensed our pulling away, being a salesman, smelling it like a trail of a wounded moose, blurted out, "I work with a tire shop here in town! I'll replace the tires with new if you'll buy the trailer!"
I should think so. At least it was something.
This was 11:45am on a Saturday. He called. The shop agreed to stay late even though they closed at noon as I'm sure the seller had some pull with them since his business involved vehicles. The guy towed it to the tire shop and we followed. We had not paid him yet.
Once the new tires were on, we did.
These pictures were taken shortly after:
Oh, and Dave died.
It looks sunny in the pictures. Clear blue lovely brisk skies. There had been one sleet storm the week before and another one coming so off for home we drove. The trailer towed beautifully and straight as an arrow all the way back. We detoured before arriving home, going to Camping World to buy a cover to prevent leaks from the coming weather.
We arrived home having reminisced all the way about towing Sprocket over The Continental Divide in a blizzard and not doing anything like it again with this trailer. I was peppered with sleet while putting on the cover....
The next morning's photographs!
By spring, we had moved it to the rear yard beginning to get acquainted with our new project. We had the luxury of time with this one. No rushing. The idea was to be absolutely certain of each decision, thoroughly research every modern upgrade, and arrive at a design theme.
I can only imagine what our neighbors thought about a trailer that looked like WWII surplus in the back yard but I was ready for dissidents as I had called the city to see if it was allowed. "As long as no one's living in it", they said. "What?! This is Arkansas, ain't it?!", I joked.
Later, we would take time with this trailer, but for now, there was a rally to plan for, a big one! By the time Forsythia gave way to Roses, we would be on our way to Georgia!
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