I received my camper as a 20th birthday present from my dad on July 26, 1986. My boyfriend at the time—now my husband—and I used it for a lot of camping trips. It even moved with us when we relocated out of state for seven years. Today we’re back home in North Dakota.
We camped in the trailer regularly through the early 1990s. In fact, the last time we used it, I was pregnant with our daughter, who is now 25. As life got busier, the camper ended up sitting in our yard for nearly 20 years.
A couple of years ago, I asked my husband to move it into our backyard so I could begin restoring it. Because it had been in our family for most of its life, it actually didn’t have much damage. Once we repaired the water leaks and sealed the holes so mice couldn’t get inside, the fun part of the restoration began.
It took one summer to complete the exterior, and the following summer I focused on the interior. The project has been especially meaningful to me because the camper is truly a family heirloom. I remember camping in it many times as a child. I can’t recall all the places we went, but I do remember one night when my dad stood at the door banging pots and pans to scare away bears. Another time, we locked ourselves out, and I was small enough to crawl through the little side hatch, slide under the couch, and unlock the door from the inside.
Today the camper sits in our yard next to my garden. It’s become a quiet little retreat where we play games, read, and relax. I often sit out there with my morning coffee, and sometimes I knit or just enjoy the peaceful space. I’ve even had a few sleepovers out there with my dog, Buddy. It’s a relaxing spot that brings back a lot of happy childhood memories.
