In any event, my foray in the field of vintage Airstreams began a few months ago with a Safari 22 that was parked across the street from my church and my daughter's school.
Everyday I drove my pre-teen daughter to 7th grade and listened to "I'm tired, I don't want to go to school, yada yada yada" and then I would see it, sitting next to a house across the street... an old, somewhat beat up Airstream camper with a green "For Sale" sign in the window. It beckoned to me.
I wondered what it looked like inside. Would my wife like it? Would should she let me get it? Where would I put it?
To my surprise, when I mentioned seeing it to my wife, she said, "Let's go see it" and I didn't even have to pester her until she gave in.
We called the number and arranged to take a look at it one Saturday. It turns out the seller, aka "the PO" in Airstream parlance for "previous owner", was a nice couple with two young kids. They were getting ready to move and putting their house on the market. The trailer was an unfinished project and, with mixed emotions they were trying to sell the Airstream so they had "one less thing" to worry about moving.
It took a couple of days to think it over, but my wife and I were allured by the thought of one day touring the countryside - sans offspring - and the potential to wake up in a forest somewhere, beside a babbling brook, listening to whippoorwill's while we drank our morning coffee. Ah, sweet serenity...
Anyway, the price was a goldilocks special... not too high and not too low, just right. Of course, in hindsight we broke the cardinal rule of Airstream purchases..."never buy the first one you see". But how many 1960 Airstream Safari's are out there to look at, anyway?
Turns out, not as many as you would think - because eventually I learned that despite my PA-issued title, this Airstream Safari is a 1961 model. Go figure.
Putting aside the year of manufacture, this little diamond in the rough was all mine (uh, ours. Sorry, honey.).
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