Trailers

Trailers

Today I am hopeful of doing my first transaction for 2023 and it could be a meaningful one. A month or so ago I finally put an ad on a website called Trailer Traders. For ten years I have had a motorcycle trailer that I have used perhaps ten times to take my motorcycles across the desert to a place where I can comfortably ride them to one of my motorcycle club’s gatherings. I haven’t bothered to do the math on the alternatives of leasing or buying (a very typical financial decision tree) since I bought the trailer with the vision of making it a part of my retirement life in the Western United States. I envisioned driving to places with Kim and taking my trailer in tow so that I could enjoy the pleasures of riding without the burden of getting there over long distances and with limited onboard storage. I also knew that it would be helpful for getting the bikes to our gatherings as a motorcycle club. That Club is now long of tooth at 28 years old and Kim and I have taken several road trips out West, but have never been inclined to drag the trailer around just so I could ride a bit here or there. I think it is time for me to unpack this trailer issue and I am doing so at 11am today by meeting a prospective buyer at the Champagne Lakes RV Lot, where I pay $100/month to store the beast in the great outdoors but out of my sight.

That is the very essence of trailers. They drag behind you, mostly out of sight, until you realize you are dragging something and changing the dynamics of your ride in a sometimes strange and sometimes dangerous way. While I am generally not a fan of backing up in life, you certainly cannot back up easily when you are dragging a trailer. I have either just decided not to practice trailer backing up or I have decided that becoming proficient at something I don’t really want to do is a bad idea. There is also the whole thing that if you are not a regular trailer guy, you have to relearn the basics of attaching and unattaching the trailer every year or so when you need to use it. That’s not so hard, but its like relearning how to use a scuba diving regulator. Not so difficult, but pretty damn meaningful if you don’t quite get it right, so you better remember it well just to be safe. A trailer creates a certain anxiety over that because it can easily lead to one of those “how could I have been so stupid” moments as you see your trailer riding down the road past your car because it came loose at the ball hitch for some reason.

Trailers are also things that have a normal lifespan. Even though I have only used the beast ten times of less and the mileage on those tires is ever so slight, the tires are ten years old and are getting a greenish tinge to them that is worrisome. I would replace the tires if I were keeping the trailer, but then I might have to wonder about the electrical harness or the frame or some other moving part like the axle. Some people take a utilitarian approach to motorcycle trailers and get an axle with a metal trough to hold the bike and then let the wind and elements do whatever they will to your motorcycle. That never appealed to me for some reason, so I found what is called the Ironhorse Trailer, made in Tennessee. It is an enclosed fiberglass shell with a clamshell opening top and a back door that folds down to form a shallow ramp on which to mount the motorcycles. It has three wheel chocks built into it to hold either one bike in the center or two side-by-side. It also has a half dozen D-Rings imbedded in the floor to use to strap down the bikes. Ratchet straps are another item that require annual reeducation with the same cost/benefit equation that you really must get their operation right or the consequences can be quite harmful.

So, this physical thing called a trailer sits out of sight for most of the year and then I have to go fetch it from storage and put on my big boy pants to use it for a ride to someplace, most likely Utah. I could have probably stored a bike in Utah for those ten years more cheaply, or just suffered the cross-Mojave ride and been better off, but instead, I bought this trailer. But wait, the trailer is also a statement more than just a utilitarian thing. I had it duded up with the logo of my Motorcycle Club, the same logo that adorns my upper left arm as a tattoo. That makes this trailer a bit more emotionally connected to me, but no less of a weight that I feel I am dragging behind me.

I have spent some time in my stories describing the process of aging out and shedding material possessions, but this is more than that. Some possessions are things you bought and actively used for many years and just don’t use any more. Others are things which were never intended to be used, per se, but were little pieces of memorabilia intended as pleasant reminders of days gone by. This trailer is a bit of both and then again neither. It was bought with the best of intentions and was used to fulfill some of those intentions and never used for the bulk of them. It went beyond utility and into memorabilia space by placing the logo on it, so it has a sort of collectivism forced on it. I have mentioned to my MC pals my intention of selling it and have gotten no push back. I don’t think I asked permission to buy it in the first place, so its not surprising that no one feels inclined to comment on its sale. In fact,, when it sits in the parking lot of the lodge where we have tended to stay in Utah, I’m betting that more than a few of the Club members have wondered what kind of idiot buys a trailer for his Club and put it logo on the side to proudly display. Clearly, I have taken this motorcycle club thing to a place that others have not done. Imagine, me over doing something.

I was raised as a rolling stone that gathers little or no moss. I’ve learned to keep eyes forward and not dwell on the past or accumulate too much. Needless to say, that is not a perfect process and there is always some moss clinging to any of us. I find it very easy to do things like sell this trailer without any thoughts or regrets. It is truly just a thing even though it shares a logo with my left arm. I only write about it now because it is a chore I must undertake today to meet the potential buyer at the RV lot. I also had to go online to figure out the process of selling a registered vehicle like a trailer. That process is not totally clear, but I get the sense that a vehicle that has no motor attached to it has much more leeway with the State DMV than would a car. Nevertheless, there is some paperwork to be sorted out. Mostly though, an event like selling a trailer feels so symbolic that I hate to let it pass as an opportunity to pontificate about how unimportant stuff is in our lives of the mind and spirit. So, I will go off later this morning and do my best to sell this token of my past indulgences and do my best to detach this trailer of toilet paper stuck to my shoe as I walk forward into the next part of my life.