My life has been a series of one-night stands lately … but in a good way.

When we are housebound, it’s really nice to have “Airstream friends” come by with their trailers and spend a night or two parked in front of the house.  Having people come by and talk about where they’ve been, and where they are going is almost like traveling ourselves.  There’s the inspiration and excitement and new ideas that come from minds that have been out exploring the world.  All of that rubs off, like pollen from a bee’s legs, when they drop in for dinner.

In the post-Modernism Week letdown, I was expecting that nothing interesting would happen except work, but even before Brett mounted his 737 to return to Tampa we got a call from Erica, who was one of the exhibitors at Modernism Week. She was passing through Tucson her way home and so we immediately invited her to come courtesy-park for a night with her exceptionally cool 1948 Airstream Trail Wind.

It’s not every day you see a 1948 Trail Wind.  Very few were made; even fewer are road-worthy today.  I have seen only two: one shell needing complete rebuilding, formerly owned by Brett; and Erica’s totally tricked-out and modernized geek showcase (I mean that in the best possible way, being sort of geeky myself). So I had to convince Erica to stay in front of the house, and in the morning I snuck out shortly after dawn and caught a few pictures of this rare trailer while she was still half-asleep inside it.

That was cool, and I told Brett that I wished everyone from Modernism Week would come by and spend a night at the house.  I didn’t really expect to see anyone else, as the group was quickly dispersing to all corners of the planet (Kristiana and Greg, for example, are now in Nepal). So I was very pleasantly surprised when John Long call me late yesterday from the road to ask if I was free for “a coffee” as he was passing through Tucson.

Well, needless to say I convinced John to stay for dinner and park in front of the house — because I’ve got to build up my collection of courtesy parking photos, and the 1935 Bowlus he owns is a truly spectacular trailer that in my opinion blurs the line between industrial design and art.  You just don’t see trailers like this every day.  Heck, you’re lucky to spot one of these every few years even if you are looking for one.  John estimates that there are less than twenty that are road-worthy, and while he is too modest to say it, his is the nicest Bowlus you’ll probably ever see.  (If you are at Alumapalooza he’ll likely be there with the door open!)

John and I were up to well past midnight talking trailers and all other things, but when I awoke at 6 a.m., both he and the Bowlus were gone, slogging down I-10 in an attempt to make Austin TX by Wednesday. Yet another one-night stand, but I’m OK with it.  Can’t wait for the next one to come by!