Thursday, November 29, 2012

Sacrifice to the Great GooglyMoogly

It is an hour before dawn as I make my preparations.  The air is cold and still as if waiting.  Like the first tingling before a storm, my skin begins to crawl with simultaneous excitement and dread.  The Great Silver GooglyMoogly requires another sacrifice and I have been chosen to give it.  I gingerly open the blue and white box with "priority mail" written on it and peer at the contents.  Pulling out the required sacrifice list, I scan it furtively.  Hehr Bulb Seal; check.  Jalousie Glass Retainer Discs; check.  Glazing Tape; check.  My eyes light on the "Grand Total" at the bottom.  That number leaves no doubt about the grandness of it.  $118.  I swallow hard, remembering what happens when the Big Riveted GooglyMoogly doesn't get a regular sacrifice.  It rusts
With this vague fear niggling at the back of my mind, I carry the box and its contents in my proffering palms towards GooglyMoogly. The ground begins to tremble as I hastily close the gap between us.  Nearly tossing the box in the door, I jump backwards and scamper away, casting a backward eye that gleaming metallic mouth. 
The ground stills, the air clears and all is quiet again. The sacrifice has been accepted.

All that to say, I got my box of sticky and smooshy window garnishments and I paid $118 for it and am not particularly happy. 

But can I tell you what really happened this morning? 
Keep in mind that it is still dark and we have just pulled into the shop parking lot.  There is an entrance light 25 feet away, casting long shadows on everything in my sight.  I step out of the car and see the white pickup owned by a co-worker of hubs parked next to us.  The truck is named "Whitey" and as usual, is covered in mud, leans to one side and has tall grass wedged in its mud flaps.  Our dogs are always very interested in sniffing the tires.  I am about to walk past it until I notice a small clawed foot jutting skyward from the bed of the truck. 

I exclaim to the owner of the pickup that his pet is not looking so good.  Then I find out that he has twenty more pets that aren't looking so good either.

Welcome to trapping season in Indiana.

Okay enough dead stuff.  On to the progress.
I got three window frames cleaned, sanded and polished.  I put the glazing tape on and then pressed the glass into it.

I also installed the bulb seal around the window frame frames.
What is bulb seal, you may ask?  It is exceedingly rare rubber gasket that can only be mined from the ruins of Atlantis.  Apparently, only Vintage Trailer Supply  knows where Atlantis is so they have the market cornered on this particular kind of bulb seal and can charge $55 for 48 feet of the stuff.
Perhaps I should be glad that at least VTS found Atlantis and can bring us this remarkably-difficult-to-install gasket, but I am not.
Anyway, I got the three street side windows installed and am feeling fine.  Somehow having glass in the windows makes this whole "sell everything and live in a trailer" scheme more credible.  No longer is it just "oh yea, I have this big aluminum shell with no electricity or plumbing and I am going to live in it doesn't this sound great, mom and dad?"  Now I have glass in my windows and that makes me respectable.  Wild critters don't have glass or windows and they wind up dead in the back of a lopsided pickup.  That's not gonna be me.  I have real windows.


  1. Wow, how dramatic...
    Did you install the plastic pieces back into the tops of the window hinge? I ask because, I unfortunately learned the hard way how very important they are.

  2. No, not yet but apparently they are vital to the survival of my trailer :) Thanks for the heads up. Are they sold anywhere or do I need to whittle them myself?