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One more confirmation this week and with that post title:

Yes, indeedy,  I am one of those strange, childless people.

Stop snickering.

Case in point:  it’s October in southern Canada.   The leaves have tarnished to beautiful shades of russet, scarlet, sunflower and indigo and the darkness has started descending before 7:00 pm.  That’s right around the time my body starts poking me with messages of “why aren’t we in bed?  It’s dark!  Darkness means we should be in bed!”

Flower decal on our boler

Flower decal on our Boler travel trailer. Practical Man tolerates this flourish with only minor rolling of eyes

My body is rather bossy when it comes to sleep. October also means that the time for hot summer nights with the sunroof open and the music loud, having my summer romance with my car is over, over, over.

Our vintage Fiat 500 has to snore away the winter in a cozy building (luckily, it only takes a tiny, tiny corner). 1970 Fiat 500 No more waking up in the morning to open my eyes and admire the inside of our pudgy Boler travel trailer, resplendent in its vintage loveliness.

No air conditioning, tiny bed, avocado green appliances.  A world of retro goodness all wrapped up in an adorable fibreglass shell. boler Love it, love it. This summer has been busy, what with re-building after the fire last November and the giant mole that’s been digging holes all across our lawn.

At least, I think it’s a giant mole.


A very large rodent has apparently been digging in our lawn

It looks a lot like Practical Man grinning, atop a borrowed Kubota tractor, as he digs a ditch for a new power cable to the shop building.

All too soon, it will be winter.  My vintage babies will be stowed away in their buildings, like hibernating bear cubs.

I picture them snoring which is perhaps unlikely, but so cute.

Boler in tent

Doesn’t our Boler look lonely?

There they snore and sleep and sigh the winter away, cozy and warm.  But, not as accessible to my every whim of affection.

The season of separation has barely begun but already I need to visit them, way across the yard, near the forest and all the nature.

And, possibly a man-eating cow.

I make the treacherous journey and then, I sit in them.  I talk to them.  I giggle a lot.

In the Boler, I dance and lounge on the couch and sometimes pretend I am Laurie Partridge from The Partridge Family.

Boler couch/bunkbed

This couch turns into a bunk bed suitable for people who are not 5’9 like I am

Shoop, shoop.  Sometimes, Zzzzzz, Zzzzz, if it’s nearly dark and my bossy body is insisting I should be in bed.

In the Fiat, I review double clutching (and sweat a bit about my first attempts at this next summer) and caress the steering wheel a little.

fiat dashboard

Look at that sophisticated dashboard!

Okay, there might be some kissing involved.

But just on the door.

And the roof.

Strictly first base stuff.

I l-o-o-o-ve my vintage babies.  I love real babies too.  But, weird and childless as I am, I have noticed that vintage babies don’t grow up, leaving me in their newly-sophisticated dust. Vintage babies stay cute and portly, forever.

Even when they look slightly nose-y when shot at an angle that does not elevate their best features.

Fiat - moustache view

The fiat’s “moustache” view, complete with dent. Re-built workshop will be the scene of much TLC and pampering of our little Fiat this winter.

Zzzzzzzzzzz.   Can’t wait for Spring.

Copyright Christine Fader, 2013.  Did you enjoy this post from A Vintage Life?    Share on Facebook       Tweet         You might also like my latest book.


No, it’s not a hat (although, I love those too!) it’s a tiny travel trailer, shaped like a marshmallow–or a boler hat, thought its inventor.  These little “eggs”, as they’re sometimes called, attract a fair amount of attention on the highway and were manufactured from the late 1960s to the mid 1980s. 

I’ve always loved them (and their flash cousins, Airstreams) but a month ago, I suddenly felt like it was the time to buy one.  Cue the internet search.  Not easy since our internet service is somewhat “vintage” itself.  Living in the country as we do, we can only get dial-up.  But I was obsessed and a huge thrill went through me as I found ads for Bolers that, ahem, were nowhere near where we live. 

But what’s a little geography when you’ve got a vintage dream?

A fellow vintage vehicle nut who is a friend of my aunt and uncle’s was very helpful with tips on things to look for when buying (check expensive-to-fix torsion suspension by making sure trailer bounces a bit when you get in it) and he had all the necessary enthusiasm for the little trailer to help my very supportive but slightly shell-shocked husband to get up to speed in the search.

So, last month, we bought a Boler.  It’s our second vintage vehicle:  the first being a 1973 Volkswagen Beetle.  The Boler is a kindred spirit hailing from 1974 and it was owned for 25 years by an 80-year-old couple who tearfully parted with it, sending us along with hugs and best wishes.  Not an atypical acquition process, from what I hear.

I’ve already become one of “those” people, who join Boler groups (check out:  I own a Boler on Facebook) and wave enthusiastically at other Boler owners on the road. 

Forget vampires named Edward…even though it needs a little TLC (but that’s half the fun isn’t it?), I’m in Boler love.

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Our Boler, circa June 2010