Okay, I guess it's time for me to finally come clean. Last year I had a total, nasty, horrific shame spiral after my first rally and subsequent road and towing mishaps with Louis. Well, maybe I shouldn't be that melodramatic, but my frame of mind after watching Louis drop off the back of a tow truck was much like his frame..bent, battered and bruised. Before I march on with this story, allow me to take a step back in time for just a moment...about ten years...where I was living in West Hollywood, California working as an Interior Designer and host of a design show on Lifetime Television. I had finally landed the big gig of working on-camera in LA and reality was setting in..I was on camera! Oh dear! It was time to hit the gym and get rid of a chin (or two). Because everyone, EVERYONE in LA is either an actor or aspiring to be one (and ticked off that they aren't), they're all camped out at local gyms working their bodies into tight frenzies. I hate working out like poison, but was determined to jump right in and go for it, but also hate the sleazy, arrogant vibes of gyms, so went with the one that promised "No Judgements." Well, that wasn't necessarily true. From the moment I walked in, tripped up the stairs (tossing my water bottle into a spinning class filled with modeled bodies) I was greeted with nasty looks, cold shoulders and dismissive jerks..and those were just the employees! I quickly decided to accept the me that was never going to have bulging biceps, adorn the cover of a fitness magazine or teach a spinning class. I chose to spend less time trying to make my body into something it would never be, and more time enjoying life. When I attended my first rally in Salisbury, Massachusetts in October of 2011 I felt judged once again. Not by the other campers, but by those same nasty voices inside my head that destroyed my confidence in the gym so many years ago. What will he, who has the perfectly restored Gaucho down the street think of my two-bit restoration? What will the queen of the NSSO or the king of the SSCE think of my tacky store bought cabinets? Would it be rude if I locked my door and hid during the tour of trailers, or better yet, leave in the middle of the night to avoid it all together? Quite simply, I felt out of place and out of my league at no ones fault but my own. The blowout on the way home only added to my overwhelming feeling of failure (any real camper enthusiasts would at least have a friggin spare and know how to change it!). In a very strange way, however, watching Louis bounce off the back of the flatbed tow truck was very similar to the feeling I had when tossing a water bottle into a room filled with models...I just had to laugh at how ridiculous life can be sometimes. As I pushed Louis back into his spot at home I realized the frame damage would most likely mean never taking him out on the road again (I certainly don't trust myself to a frame up restoration at this point). Instead of crying over his jagged edges, though, I've decided to embrace them. While he might not live on the open road again, he will always have a place in my home. After all, we are kind of perfect for each other..every scratch, bruise and imperfection tells a story of where we've been and how we've gotten to where we are today and who knows where we'll go from here! To channel my creative juices in the cold winter months following Louis' fall, I decided to write a book about these great little trailers and the people who own them. In anticipation of the April release, I've decided to resurrect this blog and Louis once again..even if he stays still, he'll always be a Scotty!