The Atomic Trailer Chick: Cindee's Story
- Cindee Pazuros
- Aug 28
- 7 min read
Updated: Sep 9
Back in my 20s, I viewed pink and white Shastas, cowgirl-decorated interiors, flamingo themed trailer parks and the Palm Springs Modernism show as one giant pie-in-the-sky dream.
I have always been crazy for vintage. As a teacher, you learn to thrift your way around town; finding hidden gems and treasures in unlikely places. We don't make much money, so we get resourceful. Reduce, reuse, recycle--the teacher motto. Actually it is more like beg, borrow & steal.
It is no surprise that I developed a love of the mid-century aesthetic. Thrift store finds with the best fabric, design and lines were always from the atomic era: brightly colored, graceful and glamorous.
This admiration transitioned into a love of classic cars. I drove a 1971 Cadillac Coupe DeVille for years, inherited from my deceased grandmother (love my Yaya). It was baby blue, and I decked it out in velour leopard-print seat covers, of course, with matching throw pillows in the back. Her name was Betty and I loved her dearly. I can't even tell you how many zany adventures we had in her, friends and my dog Uma in tow.
My 30's was about marriage, quickly followed by three adorable rug rats. I was so busy I barely remember a personal life. It was all about the kids, kids, kids. And work, as a newly minted elementary school teacher in inner city Los Angeles. Yippee! I think I spent that entire decade exhausted, honestly.
Cut to my late 40's. Divorced, three little kids and just getting back on my feet, I longed for something that was just mine. I had no money (AKA divorce is a bitch) and was frazzled. After a lifetime of tent camping, my bones longed for a time when they didn't have to sleep on the ground. One fateful afternoon, returning from a family camping trip in the Sierras, I stumbled upon this cutie. Funky cool and only $1300. My price range!
Well, I couldn't resist. I called the number when I got home and arranged to meet the seller the next weekend. Trusty ice-pick in hand, I "inspected" her. Glossing over the many issues it had, I talked him down to $700 and it was mine. Fred was born!
On the way back from picking up Trailer Fred (that harrowing story told here), I happened upon another trailer, much bigger and really pretty inside. The mechanic was asking $1200. Talked him down to $1000, including an old gas generator, and guess who had herself a second trailer within the span of two weeks? ME. When I go big, I go big.
I had no construction background or do-it-yourself skills. Even less money. Plus, I was a girly-girl who loved glitz and glamour. Ha! What had I gotten myself into?
I scoured the web for resources on how to fix my new projects. I hesitate to say renovate. It was damn near impossible! At the time, there was one adorable older gentleman making hours-long videos that I had a hard time following. There were a few trailer groups but their advice went way over my head.
Meanwhile, Trailer Fred was a disaster. Between the aluminum skins separating at the corners and the peeling laminate paneling and cabinets, I let him sit for a year before throwing in the towel. I tried various recommended method for making those cabinets presentable, with no success. Lucky for me, a woman overheard me talking about Fred at my daughter's dance class and bought him for $1500, sight unseen, as a house her dogs. Bye Fred!
Trailer Ethel fortunately was in a little better shape. I dug into her with gusto. Removing interior paneling, I experimented with different ways to stop leaks and replace walls. Not always the right way, or even a good way mind you, but I was making progress. Unfortunately she was just too big! I camped once with her, but after a harrowing trek up a mountain, I was reluctant to take her out again. Just getting her in and out of my parking space was daunting.
However, I was getting better at fixing her issues. I had help from a few friends and was making progress. Ethel sat beside my house for three years and served as a workshop and guest bedroom. She was really lovely inside, despite her blocky, homely exterior. I finally sold her for $5000 during the pandemic to make room for my next trailer, Trailer Ginger.
Ginger was a Craigslist find I made with my boyfriend at the time. I spotted her for $3500 and insisted we go see her. We had only started dating and evidently he wanted to impress me--lucky for me! With my "feminine wiles", I convinced him she was a steal and he bought her. Ginger was much loved, and we camped in her together and (me) separately over many years. We reupholstered her sofa bed & dinette and made new curtains, but she didn't need much to be camp-ready.
During this time, I had admired a really nifty trailer down the street. A month later, the owner of that trailer had a garage sale. Wouldn't you know it, she was selling the trailer too! I checked it out, talked the lady down to $2000 and Trailer Tabitha was towed home.
Tabitha turned out to be a major frame up restoration project. I thought I was getting more savvy but the seller had camouflaged some important issues. We took her completely apart, installed a new sub-floor, framed and built new interior walls and started putting her back together. Unfortunately, the relationship with my boyfriend was deteriorating. I bought a new townhouse (with no convenient RV parking for a trailer), and he couldn't store her at his house anymore.
Trailer Tabitha was sold, half-finished, to a couple who had plans to turn her into a mobile shop. It was pretty hard, after all that work we put into her, to see her go. Life happens, I guess. Weirdly enough, I saw her listed years later for much less money, still half finished (and they wrecked her charm, sob).
After that relationship dissolved, my ex sweetly signed Trailer Ginger over to me for a song. In spirit, we agreed that she was essentially my trailer. After the split, I made repairs to her interior framing and reinforced a tear, then gave her a spiffy new paint job. My kids and I enjoyed her for another year before I decided she held too many sad memories and sold her. I was absolutely heartbroken, to be honest. I needed the money (my first born was entering college) and I was spending cash each month to repair and insure her, plus RV storage. So sweet Ginger moved on to a new home down in Orange County. I did manage to make a nice profit on her though. She sold for $7000.
The sale of Ginger was followed by a period of depression and angst. Knee problems, financial stress and the aftermath of the breakup had me in a serious funk. Much therapy, later, I pulled out of it with the help of my kids and my good friends. I still mourned the loss of Ginger and longed for another trailer. I was putting myself back together and life was looking up.
I started stalking a canned-ham trailer in my new neighborhood and befriended the owners, an amiable gay couple. I always wanted a trailer like this and I convinced them to sell her to me. After making numerous trips to inspect her, I had to get real with myself. As cute as she was, and as much as I wanted to make her mine, she was too much of a project for me. She needed a full restoration and I didn't have the place to do it. Sigh. Back to the drawing board.
But when it rains trailers, it pours trailers. Just like they always seem to happen in twos for me, I spotted Ginger for sale on Craigslist that same week. Yes, MY Ginger! I contacted the owner but he wanted to play games, so I took that as a sign that I needed to let her go.
However, another trailer kept coming up in my Facebook Marketplace feed. A 1966 Aristocrat Land Commander. It seemed to be in pretty good shape, although somewhat in need of pizzaz (she was a little plain Jane). The sellers wanted too much money for it so I had not given it much thought previously. I messaged the seller, inspected it and negotiated them down to $5000. Sweet! I was now the owner of Trailer Mary Ann. I was back in the game!
Cut to present day: Trailer Mary Ann is in the process of getting a minor makeover. I have weatherproofed her and am working on designs for her paint job and interior. I am having a blast collaborating with a good friend of mine as well. Stay tuned for her story, currently unfolding...
As always...Happy Atomic Trails!
Disclaimer
The information provided on this website, in videos, social media posts, articles, or any other materials is for general informational and educational purposes only. It is not professional, legal, or engineering advice. Renovating, restoring, or modifying vintage trailers—and towing them—can involve risks, including but not limited to structural failure, electrical hazards, fire hazards, and injury. You are solely responsible for determining whether any project, modification, or safety procedure is appropriate for your specific trailer, skill level, and circumstances.
Always consult qualified professionals—such as licensed electricians, plumbers, structural engineers, certified trailer repair specialists, or certified RV inspectors—before undertaking any work on a trailer’s structure, electrical systems, plumbing, or towing setup.
By using the information provided here, you acknowledge and agree that:
You assume all risk for any injury, loss, or damage that may occur.
The creators, authors, and publishers of this content are not liable for any damages, injuries, or losses arising from the use or misuse of this information.
Compliance with all local, state, and federal laws, building codes, road safety regulations, and manufacturer specifications is your responsibility.
If you are not experienced in trailer restoration or repair, seek professional help before attempting any work. Safety should always be your first priority.
Comments