I had an Airstream American Dream—visions of wide-open roads stretching beneath my chrome castle-on-wheels. So last summer, I made that dream a reality, though on a slightly smaller scale. I got myself a vintage trailer—a 1964 Aristocrat Lil Loafer named Dot—and hit the road with my trusty canine co-pilot for a true American adventure.
Every journey needs a destination, and mine was a big one: The World’s Longest Yard Sale. This annual junk-a-palooza runs from southern Michigan to northern Alabama every August, promising miles of vintage treasure hunting. Dot, the dog, and I set out from the San Francisco Bay, heading east into the heart of America.
The Road to Treasure
No road trip is complete without detours, and thanks to the Roadside America app, we had plenty of them. We stopped to see the Tallest Tombstone in America, an airplane graveyard, the Route 66 RV Museum, and more than one home shaped like a flying saucer. Apps like Reserve America, Woodall’s, and Good Sam helped us find campsites along the way, making our journey smoother.
We camped in Nevada under trees full of hooting owls. We rolled through Wyoming’s endless winds. In South Dakota, we explored the Badlands, marveled at Mount Rushmore, and stopped at the Corn Palace—where my dog grew tired of my repeated exclamations: “It’s made of corn!!!”
One thing I hadn’t accounted for? Just how slow towing a trailer can be. I had to adjust my expectations on travel time, but the slower pace meant I soaked up every moment along the way.
The People and Places Along the Way
We were welcomed by glowing fireflies in Ohio and by fellow Tin Can Tourists at Pennwood Airstream Park—an incredible collection of vintage trailers in one place. We basked in the nostalgia of the American road trip era, staying at spots like the Wigwam Motel in Tucumcari, New Mexico.
And then, Dot hit a snag. In Minnesota, one of her 50-year-old springs cracked, leaving her sitting lopsided on the side of the highway. Thankfully, I had a Premium AAA membership, which covered both my car and the trailer. While we waited for a tow, I gazed out at the endless cornfields and spotted utility trailers everywhere. “If every farm out here has a trailer,” I reasoned, “they must know how to fix them.”
Sure enough, a mechanic pulled a new (to us) set of springs straight from the cornfield. “Is that where they grow ‘em?” I joked. He propped Dot up on sawhorses, replaced the springs, and had us back on the road within hours.
Life on the Road
Finding good food on the interstate can be a challenge, but Dot’s tiny kitchen saved me from too many fast-food stops. Before leaving, I stocked her icebox with frozen homemade chili, pasta sauce, and marinated meats. As they thawed, meals were ready to heat up at camp. That said, convenience sometimes won out—like the two-day stretch in Wisconsin when I survived solely on pastries from a tiny bakery run by sweet local ladies.
Dot also doubled as a mobile office, thanks to a laptop and a mobile internet gadget. I worked from picnic tables while the dog chased squirrels and even took a conference call from a Tennessee graveyard (it was the quietest place I could find).
The Best Part: Sharing the Journey
Some of my favorite moments came from meeting up with friends and family along the way. My dad, a veteran long-haul truck driver, taught me the proper way to back up a trailer—an experience about as smooth as his attempts to teach me to drive stick shift years ago. (I redeemed myself later by grilling steaks over the campfire.)
And then there was my best high school friend, who insisted on building a campfire in the July heat of Georgia. “Doesn’t matter if it’s 105 degrees with 1,000% humidity—we’re camping, and we’re having a campfire, dammit!” That’s true friendship.
The Yard Sale and What’s Next
At last, we made it to the World’s Longest Yard Sale, which was as junk-tastic as I had hoped. I scored a vintage hair dryer, a fez for my canine co-pilot, and plenty of old camping gear to outfit Dot for future trips.
Because now that she’s had a taste of the open road, there’s no stopping her—or me. We’re already planning next summer’s adventure!
This article was originally published in issue 19 of the Vintage Camper Trailers Magazine.
