This vintage trailer quite literally came out of the walls.
I first learned about it while negotiating with a gentleman for his 1955 Nash Rambler station wagon. In the midst of our conversation, he casually mentioned that he also had a trailer. Naturally, I asked where it was. He pointed and said, “Right behind that wall.”
As it turned out, he had parked the trailer next to his house years ago. Later, he built an extra room alongside it, aligning the door of the new room with the trailer’s entry. Eventually, he roofed over both the trailer and the house addition, then covered the front in siding. For decades, this trailer had literally been part of the house—hidden away until it was removed in 2001.
A small plaque by the door identified it as a 1946 Angules model, manufactured near Los Angeles, with serial number 399.
After tracking it down again, I was able to make a deal and bring the trailer home. What I found inside was a time capsule of vintage features: the original linoleum flooring, Masonite countertops, an ice box, a two-burner stove, wood-grained paper ceiling over Masonite, and classic red squeezer cabinet latches. Many of the furnishings and materials were still intact, just waiting to be gently brought back to life.
I’ve taken great care to maintain the trailer’s originality. The couches were reupholstered using the original springs, the woodwork was re-stained, and the box spring and top mattress were replaced with new foam cushions. I even tracked down and refurbished a 1947 propane bottle to stay era-correct.
The trailer wears its age with pride. It still has its original wheels, pinstriping, baby moon hubcaps, and even the original 1947 license plate. The water tank is copper, fitted with a gas tank filler cap. To protect it, a previous owner wisely installed asphalt roofing—and thankfully, it doesn’t leak.
There’s beauty in the simplicity. The upper cabinets stay open with little wood braces, the countertop above the stove is wedged in place with tension, and the door is held open by simply pressing the latch lever under a small stopper.
My goal throughout this journey has been preservation—not transformation. I’ve focused on cleaning, restoring functionality, and honoring the craftsmanship of the original builders. I chose not to polish the aluminum skin or chrome-plate the hubcaps. The ice box hasn’t been swapped out for a modern refrigerator, and the countertop has simply been repainted its original color.
This trailer is a survivor, and we feel honored to be part of its story—just as it now continues to be part of ours.
By Mike and Karen Breton – Ozark Hills of Missouri
