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- Subscribe - Contact Us - Rate Card - Place an Ad Archives Revels Classifieds Real Estate Menu Guide Wedding Weather Subscribe Contact Us June 5, 2006 Lance Pugh’s trailer is named Lucy , and is towed by his vehicle, called Ricky, after the characters from the famous sitcom, “I Love Lucy.” Photos by Lance Pugh | For the Tidings Tin can traveling A nostalgic road trip through airstream dreams By Lance Pugh Tidings Correspondent Vintage Airstream trailers make me think of freewheeling fun, pink flamingos, Coca-Cola bottles, Zippo lighters, gaudy sunglasses, art deco and colored aluminum cups under a blue-and-white striped awning. And maybe Ricky and Lucy Ricardo dropping by for a ’rita, as we sit back in our folding chairs and laugh any woes away. The Airstream was conceived by Wally Byam in the early 1920s. As a child, he traveled extensively with his grandfather, who led mule trains out of Baker. Later he spent his summers tending sheep, living in a canvas-covered two-wheeled cart, outfitted with a kerosene stove and a swaying bucket of water. He knew that he could do better. After a stint as a merchant marine, Wally dropped anchor at Stanford, where he obtained his law degree in 1923. Probably tired of reading what others wrote, he became publisher of a do-it-yourself magazine. Intrigued by an article on how to build your own trailer, Wally designed one himself. The design was inspired by his experiences in a covered wagon, on ships at sea and in the outback for months alone tending the flock. His greatest innovation was to drop the floor of the trailer down below the wheels and to raise the roof, creating the first trailer in which one could stand. Previous trailers were made for crawling in and maybe sitting up while inside, if only a little. Byam offered his plans for $5 each, telling his readers that they could build their own trailers for $100. He had found his space in life and quickly backed in for a lifelong hookup. Lance Pugh’s 1966 Overlander Airstream trailer provides welcome refuge for he and his wife on road trips throughout the United States. Wally was infatuated with aerodynamics of riveted aluminum aircraft. In 1936 the Airstream Trailer Company introduced his “Clipper,” with a riveted aluminum body, interior lights, enclosed galley and even dry-ice air conditioning. Thus American legend was born. It was part airplane, part boat, self-contained, easy to pull and lightweight. The invention rocked the United States at a primal level. It represented independence and unbridled joy on the road, a way to have all your needs met during the day and a comfortable bed at night behind a locked door. Rain, cold, wind, sleet or snow meant nothing, as the silver palace could be pulled until parked for a warm meal and conversation at the dinner table, then turned into a Pullman berth for a comfortable night of deep slumber. The nation could now be enjoyed away from its main roads and rails, while still retaining all the comforts of home. The Airstream did for automotive traveling what the Concord stagecoach, with its smooth-riding leather throughbrace suspension, did for stagecoach travel. The operative words were comfort and style. Today, still caught in the magnetic pull of all things Airstream, my wife Annette and I own a 26-foot 1966 Overlander original, save for the few bumps and scratches that escape the eye of all but the most discerning. It’s outfitted with two-way satellite broadband Internet access and a pretty decent blender. In fact, I’m writing at this moment from within the silver bullet, which, somehow, we named Lucy. The tow vehicle, coincidentally, is named Ricky. No celebration of Airstream travel is complete without mentioning the tribal customs of its devotees, the Aluminum Allies. They love to caravan, meeting at a set location and traveling together toward a distant spot. Each caravan has a designated mechanic to unravel what complexities might arise, as well as like-minded people who are out to see the country at a pace that can be enjoyed. Sharing meals, entertainment and observations can add to the joy of adventure. Another custom is the rally, a focused event that brings Airstream owners from across the nation, unguided, to a central meeting place to camp and meet with other fans. It is during such events that owners learn easier ways of doing daily tasks, while having the chance to listen to experts in the fields of maintenance and repair. As romantic an image as life with Lucy might provide, there are pitfalls that only an owner might know. To wit: • Don’t over-polish to an extreme mirror finish. I knew I had overdone things when I heard giggles outside as I was keyboarding away. I inched the curtains aside and saw three teenage girls applying makeup and affecting poses, using the side of Lucy as a giant mirror. When they left, I applied a water-soluble solution to dull the finish a bit, a measure of prudence in a sea of affectation. • The Pink Flamingos should be deployed with care. Once, while supposedly camped in a remote area, I rolled down the awning, planted two flamingos and lit a tiki torch. Within minutes we had crowd that resembled a hot slice of Burning Man, held annually in the Black Rock Desert, replete with dancers, musical backup, flags and pixie dust. I shouldn’t complain, though, because they brought their own beverages and, more importantly, ice. • Don’t rush things. Allow the blender to cool down between duties, as trying to supply the conga lines with blended refreshment non-stop can spell doom to the mechanical whirling dervish. Parts are hard to find when the nearest town is 120 miles south of your last look. • Keep your tunes turned down. When inside the trailer it’s easy to let the volume range skyward, knowing that little of the inside din finds its way outside. To passersby, the unit can look and sound as if the tin-can campers have called it a night, when the inside pulses with light and sound. The problem comes when the door is opened and the compressed sound waves burst outward, causing toes to wiggle a quarter-mile away. I often wear earphones or rely on the mute button that I rigged to the door. I don’t know if Byam intended it, but his vision gave rise to a time machine. When we take Lucy into the outback and spend a few days, we seem to become wrapped in the fabric of another time. Life is simple, yet, somehow, more rewarding. Every moment is an adventure, not just another day in a motel room. The rush, pressures and stress of modern daily life seem to shimmer, then completely fade away. Out there, stars are visible in the thousands and a full moon makes walking at night an exciting undertaking. Meals seem more savory, cooking a joy and a story told under the awning takes on new meaning. And opening the air vents before retiring seems to invite the total rejuvenation only found in the arms of sweet Morpheus. DailyTidings.com Home Page Archives | Revels | Classifieds | Real Estate Guide | Weather | Subscribe | Contact Us Copyright 2005 Ashland Daily Tidings and Ottaway Newspapers All Rights Reserved Ceramic Piggy Banks Women's & Men's Slippers Accelerate Weightloss Products Backpacks Online Pharmacy Mailing Lists Vegas Travel Guide Search Engine Optimization Student Loans Hammocks Water Filter Custom Made Computers Helzberg Diamonds Online Casinos Community Bonus Casino Mortgage Calculator Security Systems Click Here Advertisement .:Advertisements:. Site Search: RESOURCES - Mail Tribune News - ODOT Road Cams