I Am The Biggest Threat

As it turns out the previous owners of Molly are not the worst thing to happen to her, that honor falls to me.  We can all have a good laugh now at my last post of my super cute fuck-ups, “Oh no! I climbed up a rickety ass ladder and didn’t injure myself.” Adorable. I have a legit fuck up now and it is super not funny.

One of the unholiest of sins against vintage trailers is applying the sno-roof goo to the exterior roof of the trailer.  That shit is terrible and it doesn’t work and when you do inevitably get a leak you can’t get to it to fix it.  I know this.  This knowledge is laid out in big bold letters billboard style all over every vintage trailer restoration website.  It is the gooey white devil of trailers (lol, gooey white devil).

This is the story of how I seriously, really, really, REALLY, fucked up.

I knew I should replace the entire aluminium roofing on the trailer, there was a huge patch on the front that was actually patched onto a newer piece of aluminum roofing that was then attached to possibly the original aluminium (possibly not).  I knew I should. I knew it.  Replacing the aluminium skin on the roof was a daunting task and I didn’t think I was ready so I thought I could just put one more layer of goo on top (there were already at least four existing layers) and buy myself some time, get used to learning new things, make my bones over smaller, less vital to the integrity of the trailer projects.  I bought the goo, I took off the big patch, I bondo-ed the heck out of all the holes, I cleaned the heck out of the existing goo covered roof.  I even removed the current ceiling vent so that I would have a clean thoroughly water-resistant surface ready for my new vent, which of course I didn’t want to install until the new roofing sealant was applied. It did make sense at the time.  I wish that was the worst thing I did.

This whole event can really be summed up as “Kat sucks at reading ALL the directions” and pretty much could have been avoided if I had slowed down and read all the words.  I digress.

I got out to the trailer on a gorgeous Monday afternoon, it was 72 and sunny an absolutely beautiful October afternoon. I read the directions on the can quickly before I started rolling it on, can’t let the temperature drop below 50, cool. Dew will just make it require more dry time, cool.  Got it. Two coats required, allowing two hours to dry in-between and finishing two hours before nightfall.  Well shit, I better hurry up.

I started rolling it on and it was GLORIOUS! It was bright white and covered all the blemishes and imperfections and from twenty feet away it looked so perfect.  All the dents and bumps were still there but the were so much BETTER. I could see progress. Actual tangible progress.  I could see my hard work actually coming to fruition. I was making shit better.  Look, it’s better.

This was before when I bondoed all over it.
This was before when I bondo-ed all over it.
Beautiful.
I was so hopeful.

I ended up leaving it as one coat and was planning on coming back and doing a fresh two coats on Wednesday, I had lost the daylight.  No big deal though, it was two hours before nightfall and the temp wasn’t going to drop below 50 overnight so whatever, just an extra layer.

I went to yoga the next day, Tuesday. It was wonderful. It had been months since I’d dragged my ass to a yoga class, I could use a little namaste.  Our instructor mentioned the pending rain coming in the next few days and as I looked out the window I could see the clouds of doom coming together over our little town.  After class I drove over to the trailer to throw a tarp over her and the big ass ceiling vent hole in the roof.  I cried.  The dew from the morning had liquified everything.  Really, really liquified.  Even the parts that were dry were no longer.  I just stared at her.  How could this happen?  I had no idea what to do.  I left Molly with a plastic garbage bag over the floor under the hole in the ceiling and called Andy.  I had to pick the kids up and go to work so there wasn’t anything I could do for her anyway.  There aren’t many days I can say I’m happy to go to work but this was one of them.  If I hadn’t gone in I would have self-medicated into a coma.  It was that bad.

I ended up having my mom (THANK YOU) throw the tarp back on, knowing, if by some magic, the sealant hardened the tarp would be there forever. A forever tarp.  My amazing mom actually lifted the tarp slightly so that it doesn’t actually rest on the roofing so much, a slight reprieve would be granted should the worst occur.  I called the maker of the sealant to figure out a worst case scenario fix, all they could tell me is that the sealant was compromised and they couldn’t legally advise me further.  Thanks.

I went over first thing in the morning to assess the damage.  The floor inside, drenched. Water/toxic goo puddles had pooled all over the roof.  I borrowed a large tub from my mom to collect the drips (that should read as “rivers” not drips) and put a heater in the cabin to start drying things out. I went and purchased a new super duty tarp, I squeegeed off the pools of weird stuff (sorry world, I am officially the reason our kids won’t have drinking water) and  ordered a much needed canopy to erect around Molly.  I can not wait to see how much worse this gets.  Namafuckingste.

The Amazing Fuck-Ups of a Restoration Amateur

I dont know about you but I’ve really enoyed watching this blog turn from “Molly McFixit to Molly McFuckit.” To honor this new phase of vintage trailer ownership I thought it would be fun to share some of the more idiotic things I’ve done while working on Molly.  I do a lot of really stupid shit on any given day but here are some of the extra special gems. You’re welcome.

We bought the trailer on May 11th.  I bought the adorable black and white check flooring in the evening, of May 11th. Seriously. The same day.  Guess when I’ll get to put it in? What you don’t know? Oh probably not,  since I DON’T KNOW! Genius.  At least I bought enough right? Nope. I thought to myself “The trailer is super small, one box is probably enough. I don’t need to measure. Measuring is stupid.” Yeah, I had to order two more boxes.

I used this ladder one time to get on the roof because I was too lazy to move the big ladder (I mean it is REALLY heavy). It is some kind of miracle I didn’t fall to my death on that thing.  The only reason it’s there is that it helps hold down the tarp on top of the Dream Machine. That’s right, every single rung has been cut so that you can’t actually use it for a ladder. Unless you have a death wish. Awesome.

Genius
Genius

My most favorite though is when I went out and looked at fabric for the cushions. HAHAHAHA. Because that’s totally happening this year. “Oooh I don’t know babe what do you think? Kitch or modern, turquoise or orange?” FUUUUCCCKKKK. I am surprised no one tried to strangle me with my stupid fabric swatches.

Seriously,
Seriously,
Which one?
Which one?

Or when I thought,  oh you know what would be fun, ripping out veneer without trying to save the pieces for a pattern.  Or that time I inhaled asbestos just so I could rip up some stupid tiles or when I sanded the exterior without a mask (those tissues were so GROSS). You can pretty much (100%)  count on this being a recurring post.  I could fill a post of stupid shit I do at the trailer daily.  Again, you’re welcome.