ROAMEO ORIGINS: PART III:

June 5th, 2015

It felt really good to be removing huge chunks of Roameo. The more we removed, the cleaner it felt. And the cleaner it felt, the more hope we were filled with, the easier we could imagine what he would look like when he was finished.

The next pieces that came out were the wooden frame that the bed laid on, the wooden bench seating frames, the microwaves, the AC unit cover, the bedside table, ALL the cabinetry doors/drawers/hardware, a few window frames….. and the entire front end. The front end was what we decided was the part that needed the most work done to it. Both corners had water damage, and the beams connecting the corners were weak from trying to support them. So we pulled off all the paneling here, stripped out all the insulation, shop-vacced, and took all the measurements needed in order to rebuild the section. It consisted of only a few wood beams creating a little grid that supported everything, which Andy re-created without too much trouble.

The trouble came whenever we went to replace the old piece with the new piece. For some reason, being the architectural newbies that we are, we thought we could just remove the old rotten piece and slip the new piece in no problem. What we DIDN’T think about was “How will the rest of the trailer support itself if we remove the bottom?”. So as soon as we removed the bottom of the front, the entire upper part began to slip and slide out of its position. When we realized what was happening we instantly nonverbally agreed that no matter how sad of a state our Roameo may be in, if we allowed the front end to completely collapse on itself it would be officially classified as “broken”.

I instinctively grabbed ahold of the part that was slipping and successfully stopped it from falling at the cost of my body now being the support beam for the entire front of the trailer. Classic Andy is choking down laughter as he shouted “hold on baby!” and tried to install his new support piece as quickly as humanly possible. We took turns being the human support beam and being the real-life Fix It Felix; frantically hammering and glueing (yes glueing) the new frame into place. It took several strenuous hours, but some how we pulled it off. As you can imagine, there are no photographs of this part.

At the end of the night, we took and exhausted look at our crude frankenstein repair job, and despite the success of keeping the thing from completely collapsing we felt defeated. Our visions of craftsmanship perfection were shattered, it was so, well, ugly! There were hodge-podged pieces all nailed together haphazardly and dripping with dried glue marks. We heaved a sigh and convinced ourselves that it was at least a success in that it was still TOGETHER, and not in a hopeless mess on the floor. It was with heavy hearts that we clocked out for the night, hoping that things wouldn’t be so bleak in the morning.

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