About a dozen years ago, while out walking my dog, I rounded a corner and came upon an older gentleman taping a ‘for sale’ sign on a like-new looking utility trailer. I asked him how much he was asking for it. When he said “$500″, I told him to put away his sign, I’d be right back with a cheque.
Today, she doesn’t look quite so pristine, but after putting a new set of trailer lights on her, I reflected on just how much I’d gotten for that modest sum: Countless moves of plywood and other building materials, garbage, flagstone, sod, furniture, appliances, motorcycles and God knows what else (when it was in the almost perpetual state of loan to various neighbours).
During most summers, hardly a week went by without it coming in not just handy, but indispensable, for some hauling task that it accomplished with nary a whimper. (Apart from its usefulness, it’s the sweetest riding trailer I’ve ever dragged anywhere.)
Maintenance so far? Well, the aforementioned trailer lights ($42), a couple of new tires I had laying around the shed anyways ($20 to mount) and a couple of cans of rust paint to occasionally touch up a few rust spots (about $12).
The slightly larger than 8′ by 5′ bed is a size that isn’t matched by most pickup trucks; it has a ride-on (see through) tailgate, plenty of tie hooks and a flip-down hydraulic stand-plate. Best of all, it’s low profile lets you easily see what’s behind without special mirrors or guesswork. As a former owner of, and fan of, pickup trucks, now I say “Who needs ‘em”.
Guys are attached to certain of their things. That trailer is like an old friend to me; a low maintenance, uncomplaining, ready-for-anything tool that, next to my dog, is about as close to perfect a thing to own as you can have.