It’s 4 a.m. in Palm Springs, Calif., and I’m wide awake inside our 19-foot vintage Silver Streak trailer, listening to the rain pelt the aluminum siding and the wind ravage the turquoise-and-white awning.
Just hours earlier, we’d finished the 18-hour, 800-mile trip from Denver.
“We’d better take the awning down,” I said to my husband, Michael, knowing he’d be irritated, but also knowing that the dumb thing would probably blow away. We’d be out 400 bucks, plus we needed it for the exact reason we’d made this trip: the Palm Springs Modernism Week Vintage Trailer Show.
So we took it down in the pouring rain, in the mud, and in the middle of the night. Anyone who travels in a trailer (vintage or otherwise) knows there are things you don’t want to deal with: high winds, torrential downpours, bad campgrounds. However, vintage trailers come with their own unique set of problems.
They leak; the awnings collapse under rain; the axles fail. And anyone who says there’s no water damage on a vintage trailer is a liar.
We bought the trailer in 2023; Michael towed it all the way back from Idaho. It had been used as a fishing trailer, so it was in rough shape. But we knew this one was a diamond in the rough. Silver Streaks this size (19 feet) and in this model (the “Jet”) are fairly rare. We’ve only seen a few in the vintage trailer community. Although often mistaken for an Airstream, and closely related, they are separate brands with unique construction methods.
After tearing out most of the insides, it quickly became clear that we were in way over our heads. We hired a professional to do the big stuff: plumbing, electrical, the frame, and the new lime-green Marmoleum flooring. More than a year later (and way more money than we ever imagined), we got her back. Like boats, many vintage trailers are “she’s” and often have names. We named ours Ginger after her red Silver Streak emblems.
Michael handled the finish work, rebuilding the cabinets, adding a wraparound bench, installing a new hot-water heater and lights, and polishing the trailer for the first time in 63 years (it took five full days). We kept the best and most-loved parts: the original pink tub, pink sinks, and pink glitter countertops.
I planned the color scheme around all the pink and the green floors; many vintage trailers can be dark inside with dark wood, so we were aiming for a light and bright interior. I got lucky with some fabric for the curtains with the colors I was hoping for: pink, turquoise, and lime green.
As Ginger started to take shape, we knew she was special and, like car collectors, we wanted to show her off. Our first stop was the Antiques at the Spanish Peaks Vintage Trailer Rally in La Veta, Colo., where we showed our trailer with about 15 other owners. The vintage trailer community in Colorado is a tight-knit group (one place to look is Colorado Tin Canners). Some restore their trailers; some don’t. But all love them just the same.
Our big trip was for this year’s Modernism Show in February in Palm Springs. We spent months preparing for the trip. Staging a trailer is a vital part of showing it. Unlike showing a vintage car, trailers come with an astounding assortment of miscellany. People arrive with truckfuls of stuff: outdoor rattan furniture sets, Mid-Mod fireplace units, rugs, bar carts (Tiki is hugely popular with this crowd), luggage, and the list goes on.
In fact, one of the awards at many vintage trailer shows is for staging. We spent a great deal of time thinking about staging not just the inside of our trailer, but the outside as well. We had the awning (that we saved from the storm – yay!), webbed lawn chairs, a vintage 7-Up cooler, and a bar cart ready for martinis.
An 800-mile road trip from Denver in February wasn’t ideal. A snowstorm forced us to shorten our trip from four nights to two, including Albuquerque and Seligman, Ariz., with a quick stop at the Road Kill Café and OK Saloon on Historic Route 66.
The Modernism Vintage Trailer show takes place over a weekend in February every year. This year, 52 trailers were on display, and nearly 2,400 people toured them. At a poolside awards ceremony the first night, four awards were announced. We were thrilled to win the People’s Choice award, voted on by more than 1,800 people.
On the way back, we spent some time in Kingman, where we visited the Arizona Route 66 museum and Mr. D’z Route 66 Diner, and Holbrook, where we visited the Petrified Forest and Painted Desert National Park. We also had to snap a pic of Ginger at the famous “Standin’ on the Corner” park in Winslow, Ariz., and made one last stop in Santa Fe, N.M.
Somewhere along the way, Ginger became more than a project. She is a magnet for waves and honks from fellow vintage lovers, and for conversations with strangers who want to tell us about the trailer their grandparents once had or the one they wished they still did.
Many, many times along the way, we wondered what we had gotten ourselves into. Standing poolside a day later, holding the People’s Choice award, it felt obvious: this wasn’t just about fixing something old. It was about bringing it back to life and discovering, along the way, just how many people were drawn to it.
Somewhere along the way, Ginger became more than a project. She's a magnet for stories, connections, and shared nostalgia.