So the long and the very long and the short of it goes like this.

About 7 years ago, we bought a used travel trailer.  It is nice, with a little bedroom with an odd sort of bed in the back, a little bathroom, and then a front room area with a kitchen and table and couch.  Boy has been sleeping on the table bed, Princess Caesar has been sleeping in a travel crib.  (note--he's called boy because Princess Caesar and he were playing a game of naming which involved calling each other buddy.  She couldn't say buddy, and so she said boy, and thus it sticks.)  (second note: so long as I'm explaining names, she's called Princess Caesar because we decided Princess Napoleon was too large a mouthful, and while Princes HItler works quite well, it carries some rather negative connotations.)

So, this travel trailer was clean.  I mean, these people cared for it on a level higher than just anal.  We have taken it several times to oregon, phoenix, california, salt lake city, Wisconsin, Indiana, Nebraska, Louisiana, and So Cal.  So we've gotten around in it.  I've left some places off that list too.  But that's not the point.  The point is that it's getting small for us.

So two years ago we bought our old new trailer, planning to sell our old trailer (which is the one we still have--give me a chance, it'll make sense).  So we bought a new trailer with bunkbeds and a slideout so we could have more room and we wouldn't have to put up the kids' beds constantly (think about naps and regular bedtimes--blech).  So we carefully researched, discovered a trailer our truck could haul, and then made off with it.  But . . . on our maiden voyage (to San Diego--yeah, we ARE sometimes thick as a brick), the truck didn't pull it well.  Coming out of the Rockies and running down I15 on through the mountains the truck was working hard.  Then there's this hill/mountain that is one steady incline between LV and Barstow, CA.  At 50 degrees and going about 45 miles an hour, we were overheating.  Um.  Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?

So that night while looking in the cupboards for something, I discovered that the trailer weighed 800 pounds more than they told us.  (there's a hidden sticker tin the kitchen cupboard that says it).  After much annoying interplay and aggravation, it was discovered that they (Bish's RV in Idaho Falls) had lied to us.  We told them what our truck could haul, told them we wanted this trailer because it was not too heavy, no we couldn't look at another trailer that was a bit different because it weight (ah the irony) 800 lbs more than the one we bought and we couldn't have it.

The sales manager, a prick whose name I cannot remember but who is the definition of shifty, conniving, and scum, told us that of course they told us our truck could pull it.  After all, their definition is can it pull it on flat land at 5 mph across a parking lot.  Then he said, well if we'd have told you it was too heavy, you'd have just gone up the street and bought it from somebody else.  He was also a masochistic sob and refused to talk with me (and only to my husband) when I pointed out that he lied.  I think it bothered him that I kept using the word LIE and I did not call him names.   Oh, and then he went on about how we'd looked in the kitchen cupboards.  Yeah, dorkbreath, to see what they were like inside.  I wasn't reading stickers and I sure as hell wasn't looking there for information about the trailer weight!

So long story short, after writing complaint letters to the owner and threatening to take this to the attorney general of Idaho, they agreed to take the trailer back on consignment (can't refund your money--it's used now.  Assholes--apparently I"m not over this at all yet).  So they sold it to someone else and we got all our money back.  We then purchased a truck that would allow us to pull something heavier, and then settled in to bide our time until we had more money and paid the truck off.

Fast forward to last week.  Neighbor approaches us.  Has a friend who's interested in our old trailer (remember that first one?)  I said sure, he can look.  He liked, he offered a great offer, and so we accepted.  I should point out that in four weeks--actually more like three--we leave for a two week trip to Oregon to camp in our trailer.  Yeah.   So the timing seems . . . awkard (yeah, call me an idiot.  I don't blame you). 

So all this last week my husband has been scouring the net and looking up states and gross vehicle weights and all that sort of stuff, trying to figure out what we'd like.  He even went to poke around at some trailer places without me in order to do some initial footwork while I worked on The Black Ship.

But today, we decided to go together with the kiddies and have a look.  Reader, we bought a trailer (oh, I love Jane Eyre.  Stop it). 

We looked at a bunch, and finally settled on one that is more expensive than I like, but not as expensive as the two others my husband was jonesing for.  The kids like it (lots of room for them and bunk beds) and our truck can pull it (checked the kitchen cupboard sticker and everything).  Got a good deal and within our budget, and very much liked our sales guy (he came recommended by a friend).  He also threw in some extras (after we closed the deal) which was very nice.

But let me point out our maiden voyage will be to Oregon.  A round trip of about 2000 miles.  Yeah.  Don't say it.  I know.  Duh.