Some thoughts from another blog and another project:

(I thought this post, from another blog, fit in on "The View . . ." so I'm double posting it.) 

Old Campers and Old Men, We Have Some Things in Common

June 19, 2021

 No pictures today:

Most of what I have been doing on the little camper has been pretty repetitive and boring. I have new fraining and a new piece of interior paneling on the rear of the trailer. Most of the siding is now off. Though it is pretty clear which piece goes where, I followed the advice of Larry (Mobiltec) (https://cannedhamtrailers.com/) and labeled each piece. (If you are in a project like this, do it on the inside (unfinished side) of the metal 😅). I also have done the same for windows. There is only one door, so I didn't label it. If I get to the point of not recognizing a door I figure Kathy will need to run an ad for an unfinished camper project.

Siding for one of these vintage trailers is really expensive, besides that, I'm trying to save as much of the 53-year-old camper as possible, so I'm refinishing the siding that the guys in Elkhart put on it. I've already told you about the liberally applied house paint. I was using a process that involved a power washer. I came to the realization that old-fashioned elbow grease and scraping accomplished the job just as quickly (really, no more slowly) and is a lot quieter, and saves on gas. In the final analysis, it comes down to sanding. While this is the first time I've restored, rebuilt, remodeled (pick a word) an old trailer, I have many "making old things serviceable" projects under my belt. In these projects, an old saying often comes to mind, "You can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear." Strange statement, who would try to do that, anyhow? I'll let you do your own research. I understand that the proverb has been traced back to 14th Century Scotland (which may make it appropriate for me. Likely, some of my ancestors were Scots.) Anyhow, the saying refers to making something pretty out of something ugly. Clearly, that is what this kind of project is about. Maybe my project won't turn out as pretty as a new camper, built by an expert camper-builder, using new and fine materials, but it will be a whole lot prettier than it was when I started--much more useful, too. So, this "maybe Scot's" addition to the Proverb:

You can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear, 

but you can make a better-looking sow's ear.

The problem is knowing when to quit. I don't think anyone ever really does enough sanding on this kind of project. The happy medium is somewhere between, "Wow, this looks like it just came from the camper factory," and, "Well, you should have seen it when I started."

All of this brings me to some thoughts about the camper restorer, me:

Working on this kind of project puts an exclamation point on the words of our Lord, "Moth and rust corrupt." As near as I can tell, the Frolic was never in a major wreck. It had a tree limb fall on it. There is evidence of various scrapes and bumps. Weather took its toll. No one ever set it on fire or attempted chainsaw modifications. Like me, the main problems the Frolic has are chronic, rather than catastrophic. People and things in this world wear out.

I've not only been dealing with what the elements have done to the little camper; I'm also remedying damage done by those who came before me, who were trying to fix the little home on wheels. I've scaped off several tubes worth of silicon caulk. Don't get me started (again) on the roof goop. I've removed the wiring that was put on the outside of the trailer to replace the real wiring. All of these "fixes" have a common trait. They are attempts to address core issues with surface repairs. In the final analysis, they made things worse. Most of what I have repaired on the camper is the result of a benign and clearly necessary substance, water. Water got into a place where it shouldn't be. Mold, rot, and corrosion were the results. Electric circuits failed, screws lost their grip, and wood was reduced to powder. Fixing that requires getting down inside. Not only do you have to get down inside, you also have to have some understanding of what is in there, otherwise you'll just tear more stuff up trying to get at the problem. These campers are built backwards. That meant that when I repaired the back wall, I had to take it apart from the outside in, and then build it back from the inside out. The first piece I installed was the new interior paneling, then I put the framing on top of that. I'll get to the siding later.

Over a lifetime of ministry, I can't tell you how many times I've seen people try to address heart issues by applying the equivalent of silicon or roofing goop. It looks better for a while, but inside the rot continues.

Jesus is our maker. He knows us down on the level where no one else can see. He is not hindered by an old Scotch proverb, that doesn't make much sense anyhow. The measure of what He can do with us is not who we are when He starts with us, but his limitless power, wisdom, and, most of all, love. He doesn't fix old creations. He makes new ones (2 Corinthians 5:17). Unlike me, He doesn't get tired and give up, He's never stumped, and He never settles for good enough because He can't afford best.

So, I'm off on a quest for some atomic-powered paint stripper, followed by more sanding. Before the day is out I also need to address a few other issues that came from this world's corrosive effect--that doesn't stop just because you are gone. In the big picture, I'm becoming the man wants me to be. In His wisdom, our Lord doesn't complete His work down here. This old sow's ear (or would I be a "boar's ear?) is going to turn out really well.

Later.