1994 SUNNYBROOK TRAVEL TRAILER

20 Feet of Trailer, 24 Feet with the Tongue, and About 100 Feet of Good Decisions

Well folks, here I am.

A man reaches a certain age and starts believing he has acquired wisdom. Then life reminds him that confidence and wisdom are not always roommates.

Case in point:

My son Cedar mentioned he wanted a travel trailer.

Now, instead of doing what any sensible father would do and letting him find his own, I spotted this beautiful old Sunnybrook and thought:

"Boy, am I ever a great dad."

So I bought it.

Without asking him.

Turns out buying another grown man a trailer is a lot like buying him boots. Doesn't matter how nice they are if they're not the size he needs.

The trailer was too big for what he had in mind.

Now Cedar is about to become a father himself, making me a first-time grandpa, and he's politely reminded me several times that this magnificent monument to my fatherly enthusiasm is still sitting in Salt Lake City.

His exact words may or may not have been:

"Dad... please get with the program."

So here we are.

And honestly, somebody is about to get one heck of a trailer.

This is a 1994 Sunnybrook from back when things were built stout enough to survive poor decisions, gravel roads, and most family reunions.

It's a double axle.

It's spacious.

It's clean.

Everything works.

It has a brand-new awning.

And it's been cared for by older folks who treated maintenance like a religion and owner's manuals like sacred texts.

There was one small leak around the rear window years ago that caused a tiny bit of water damage. The leak was repaired, the problem was solved, and everybody moved on with their lives.

As my grandfather used to say:

"Don't let the fly on the horse keep you from buying the horse."

Wise words.

This Sunnybrook isn't some flimsy modern contraption held together by hope, decorative staples, and a finance payment.

This thing was built in an era when engineers still lost sleep over durability.

The cabinets are solid.

The frame is solid.

The trailer pulls beautifully.

And if walls could talk, these ones would probably tell stories about campfires, fishing trips, card games, and that one uncle who always forgot where he parked.

America turns 250 this summer.

Two hundred and fifty years of independence.

Seems like a fitting time to hitch up a trailer, point toward the mountains, the desert, the lake, or someplace you've never been, and remind yourself that freedom still looks a lot like a dirt road and a sunset.

I'm open to trades.

Cash is wonderful.

Interesting stories are welcome.

Ridiculous offers will probably be laughed at, but respectfully.

Maybe you're looking for a trailer.

Maybe you're not.

Maybe you clicked this ad because you were supposed to be working.

Either way, life has a funny habit of introducing us to good things when we're busy looking for something else.

As Mark Twain never quite said, and probably should have:

"Twenty years from now you'll regret the trailers you didn't buy."

So come take a look.

Help a soon-to-be grandpa save a little face.

Help a future father reclaim his parking space.

And give this fine old Sunnybrook a new chapter.

Thanks for reading.

May your coffee be strong, your tires stay round, your children call often, your campfires burn bright, and your stories improve with every telling.

Text

Chris 801-918-8278

Cedar 801-706-2554