1974 Airstream Window Tutorial Part One

Removing windows, step one

From my reading on Airstream renovations, refurbishing windows is the stuff of legend. I've seen folks splitting apart double-paned glass with wood shims (bareback, curtains closed—I know, you'd almost thinking Walter White was cooking something), heat guns, razors, prayer, you name it. Prayer for sure: these windows are expensive to replace as they're all curved. At one point during the summer, after having removed all the Vista View windows, I yelled out to Marlene, "Hey hon! I'm carrying 5K is replacement glass!" And that was just the Vista View windows.

Windows out

Thankfully, it appears I've dodged a bullet with my windows. In '74 AS made double-paned windows, but strangely the external pane is glass while the internal is plastic. The internal is held in place by an aluminum frame that is screwed to the sash. There is no insulative value of the second pane, so it beats me why they put it in.

Gaskets crumbling

After 45 years, the gasket between the Lexan and the glass pane has completely decayed. On the street-side windows (no awning to protect them from the sun), the corrosion has pitted the aluminum.

Also, the mylar coating (meant to repel sun) has also disintegrated. That was removed with a razor blade.

 The photo below is the inner Lexan pane. You can see how pitted the aluminum is—I guess there was some chemical reaction that occurred over 45 years. The foam gasket basically crumbled when I scraped it with the razor.

No gasket left on Lexan pane/pitted aluminum

Crud abounds

Mylar is toast

Rubber is finito

The rubber gasket that seals the sash against the body is also garbage. That was fairly easy to remove—a paint scraper, Goof-Off and Windex, plus steel wool and a razor blade did the job. I also discovered that a brass wire wheel (soft) on the drill got most of the glue and Vulkem off. Oh, and if you ever renovate an AS, you will quickly discover that all the silicon previous owners used is a B#@$?!CH to remove. Silicon on aluminum is not a match made in heaven.

Corrosion on steel as well as ancient spider webs 

Rust removed with wire wheel. 

The upper bolt tore in half. The bottom bolt was more obedient and was loosened without issue.

The above shot show two latches taken apart. I've got about 30 of these to take apart, clean and reassemble. Hey—winters are long up here and one can't sip whiskey all day.

Window sash—left is polished, right has 45 years of gunk.

WD 40 is my new best friend

It's been quiet on the blogging front, mainly because summer was filled with guests (we dodged the forest fires but not the smoke). Lots of guests! It was great to see family and friends. Brother Bob came up for two weeks and helped me with a building project. I've been steadily working on the remainder: electric heat is just about in, wood stove probably next week, then build the table around the table saw and voila! a new workspace will be available.

The Airstream is never far from my vision, mainly because it takes up 30 feet of yard space. I've been researching the many different ways of renovating the windows.  All the gaskets are shot, and they all need new glazing material. The challenge is to find a Canadian source. Sure, there are a couple of US sources, but the shipping costs are appalling. The latter has exactly what I need, so I measure, see what a place like Vintagetrailersupply.com recommends and then try to find it on Amazon.ca.  The .com folks have waaaaaay more options. What is it with Canada and importing something as simple as gasket material?

Today, I tackled the Vista View windows and lower stackers. The VV are curved, the stackers are below the main windows. After much research, I discovered that my '74 has VV and stackers that have a plastic second pane and are held in place by a metal ring. Easy! With other models/years people have been known to try to break the second glass panel with a spring loaded punch. Horror stories abound about fractured safety glass flying a Mach 1 all over the place. This is one bullet I've dodged.

I'm not sure there will be many more.

A few pictures to show the before and after. Mind you, this is just the aluminum frame for the glass. The glass is still caked with decomposing mylar and the plastic, well, looks just plain crappy. WD 40 did the trick. The butyl tape melted off the aluminum, but it was a slow melt which required a fair amount of muscle.

By the way, I managed to removed all the windows without breaking one. This is a good thing, as they cost over $400 USD to replace.

Forty-four year old butyl tape. Still sticky but useless at preventing leaks.

Crud on the window

Lots of WD 40 and a sharp razor blade did the trick

Crud removed with much muscle and 3M plastic abrasive pad

A beautiful, clean channel where the window (once cleaned) will be re-installed.

Ghetto look now, but just wait until it's polished, but that's about a year away.

Taking down the skin

After a week of vigorous demolition, I stepped away from the Silver Bullet and attended to other tasks. The weather was cool today, so I figured it was a good time to step back into the job of taking the interior apart.

R.I.V.E.T.S. Millions of them. OK, well, hundreds for sure. Each has to be drilled out in order to remove the interior skin. Airstreams are held together by rivets. Each rivet that is removed will have to be re-riveted in the future. Riveting, n'est pas?  What I've learned so far is that there is no rushing as far as this task is concerned. Taking the interior apart is a sloooooow process. After breaking numerous 1/8 inch drill bits, I selected 'slow' on the drill and bits ceased breaking.

Removing the interior skin and insulation is showing me exactly where the leaks are. Yes, leaks. All trailers leak—don't let anyone ever try to tell you otherwise. To fix the leaks, I'll need to go over each exterior buck rivet with a suction cup. No suction? Leaky rivet.  Yeah, there are a few hundred on the exterior as well. To fix, I'll have to drill the buck rivets out, and then replace with new (complete with waterproof goop to ensure a seal).

VistaView frame removed (bottom). Next step: remove window. Black gunk? Decades of leaks.

Once the walls are out, it's either the floor or windows. Thankfully no windows are broken, but they all have gunk between the panes. Forty-four years ago, some engineer/designer at the Mother Ship (Airstream lingo for the main plant in Jacksonville, OH) thought it would be a great idea to install Mylar between the panes. Well, after four decades, the Mylar has degraded and looks like the skin of a 90 year old who's lived in the sun their entire lives. Each window will need to be removed (rivets!), cut in half, Mylar removed, resealed, etc. It's kind of like becoming a surgeon, you know?

There's not a lot of visible floor rot, so I hope no serious frame remediation will be required. If it is, I guess I'll be taking a welding course, toute suite.

Some shots of today's work.

Ceiling skin removed

Wrinkly skin windows

Some would call this progress

Been working on the Silver Beast for the past week. I kinda knew the trailer would be in rough shape, based on the reading I've done lurking on various Airstream blogs and chat groups. Well, at least there isn't s#@!t to clean up! (Although I did take out the toilet and what to my wondering eyes should appear? The last schmuck who owned this trailer never dumped the black tank. Yes, correct. S.C.H.M.U.C.K.)

All the furniture is out. Most is garbage, mainly because it STINKS of I don't know what. It's like old, sour wood. Maybe the glues used in '74 have decayed over time. Who knows. I've stored a bunch of them for templates, which should come in handy.

All the electric wires have been exposed and labelled. I'm trying to wrap my head around schematic drawings. Luckily for me, my neighbor Hardy is a Swiss-trained electrical genius. A few cases of Sleemans Honey Brown and he'll be more than willing to help. It's his favorite. He literally has cases of empties stored in his garage.

There are leaks, as I knew there'd be. Not too many, which is great, but it's all relative. I'll be drilling out old rivets til the cows come home, and then replacing them (applying caulking as well). There's no point in doing this with half your bum cut off. "Why do it right when you can do it cheaper," is not the motto for this job. "Cheaper, faster, better." You can never have all three.

I removed my first panel today (after drilling out about 30 rivets). As I pulled back the pink insulation, the shiny exterior skin winked back at me. No leaks streaks, but oddly enough, the entire bottom stretch was heavily corroded (where the aluminum is placed in an aluminum channel). Time to get caulking stripper and plastic scrapers. And Por-15 rust inhibitor.

I discovered today that the wallpaper on the inner skin can be removed, revealing more aluminum. Very tempted to strip all the paper and get a VERY shiny interior. Heck, I'm retired: more time than money.

The floor is a write-off. I think a large part of the stink is from 45 years of dirt rubbed into it. So, once the walls are cleaned or stripped, off comes the plywood. Then the real fun begins because who knows what's been living in the belly pan. I've crawled underneath and most of it looks intact, so I have crossed every appendage I have in the hopes that the frame will be OK.

 Dump run #2.
Mostly stripped.

Totally stripped. 

Rust below pink insulation. Rotted floor. Shore water pressure regulator was burst. 

In The Beginning

Yes, we're hoping for the light of inspiration but for now, it's just taking stuff apart, labelling wires and chucking stuff out the door.  First dump run will be tomorrow! Not surprisingly, after 44 years, the furniture is tired and worn out. A lot of the stink is gone—there were rug tiles on the floor. Just think of the goodies stuck to that mat.

I found my first piece of floor rot today. It's under the street side window behind the door (Airstreamers, I'm learning use 'street side' for 'driver's side' and 'curb side' for 'passenger side.') I suspect there'll be more once I remove some of the wall panels. The cs curved front window has an inch of water in it. Yes, it looks like most, if not all of the windows will have to come out, be pried apart and cleaned, resealed and then apply new gaskets. I kind of knew this would be the case (or as my wise father said, 'we knew this would happen.' And yes, he put this on his grave stone. Theologically very astute for an guy with grade 4 education but I digress).

I removed the two of the fans today—found old wasp nests and dust elephants and dirt. I managed to remove them intact so they're going up on Ebay. Believe it or not, there are people out there renovating Airstreams to look exactly like they did when they came off the assembly line.  More power to them, I say.

I believe the most daunting part of this adventure will be staying organized, not rushing (and then braking windows that'll cost USD $500 to replace), labelling wires at their termination and beginning. The wires part is important because that way I'll know where to run new wires and what they're for.  The plumbing won't be a big deal.

But removing the fresh water tank will be a real joy. To do that, you have to be underneath the trailer, remove a large chunk of plywood, and then drop the tank without breaking it. Oh, and while you're under there, might as will replace rivets and such!  I looked at the body pan yesterday and noticed some of the brake wiring hanging down. My spidy sense told me that's probably not a good thing. We'll see what Master Google has to say about that.

Enjoy the photos!

What Was I thinkin'?

Right. What was I thinking? Well, what were Marlene and I thinking when we bought a 44 year old Airstream trailer?

Transformation—that's what we thought. We're going to take this old trailer and give it another few decades of life. It a physical manifestation of what we all hope to achieve in our inner life.

I'm also blogging about it as a record of demolition, renovation and repair. That way, when the time comes to bid our Land Yacht International goodbye, the new owners will know exactly what they're getting. But we don't want to think about selling, at least not for the next few years.

The Odyssey Begins
I left 100 Mile for Penticton on Monday and stayed overnight with good friend, then drove to Nelson the next day, leaving at 0400 hours. It's a gorgeous drive. There are scenes that look straight out of Scotland. Alas, there were no single malt breweries along the way.

I got to Nelson around 9:30 and stopped at Oso Negro for coffee. It is the place in Nelson. It was like being in West Van watching people in their mucho dollero outdoor clothes. Hmm, I wondered. Did I come my hair? Nope—I'm from the Cariboo.  Here in 100 Mile, you can buy groceries in cammo clothes/pajamas and no one gives you a second look. In Nelson? I think I could have potentially been accosted.

I met the seller and we did the usual dance and eventually agreed on a fair price. The Airstream has seen owners in Arizona, Yellowknife, North Vancouver, Kelowna and now 100 Mile House, BC.  It was quite the ordeal getting it here. Even had the local cops give me a hand getting her ready for the tow. Yes, the police in Nelson are a talented lot.

I had Penny, my dog along for the trip. She didn't like the policeman at all. She's never growled at anyone but he got the real deal—this was a serious "I'm gonna rip you to shreds" growl. I let her out of the truck for some air and she nipped the cop in the butt and jumped back in! He didn't miss a beat. "It's just the uniform, no big deal." He's got four dogs at home, he said.

I left for points northwest at around 6 p.m. wondering how my truck would handle the trailer. Turns out, all my bus driving experience from my university days came right back and the drive was alright. I had hoped to make Kelowna to stay with friends, but the Sandman overtook me about 100 kms out so I pulled into a rest stop and slept in the trailer.

And woke up at 3 am because it was so freaking cold! 3 Celsius! So, I fired up the Ram, and Penny and I continued on our merry way. That is, until the Sandman overtook me at around 6:30 a.m. Slept at another rest stop (in the truck) for at least a half an hour.

I didn't win any races going through the numerous passes, but when the terrain was kinder I was able to keep a steady 95 kms/hour. More gorgeous scenery, blue sky.

We arrived home at around 11 a.m. (yes, it's a BIG province) at which point I was struck with what the funk was I thinking buying a 44 year old trailer? So, instead of wallowing in buyer's remorse, I consulted the oracle (Google) and began watching uTube videos of people renovating the same trailer we now have. Yes, it takes time. And it will take more money. But, Marlene and I (newly retired) plan on doing most of it ourselves. No, I won't gas fit or do electrical but I can tear out floors, cabinets, move appliances, take the wall skins off, remove windows then pry them in half to remove film/moisture, put new gaskets on the windows, maybe switch out insulation, maybe tear out the floor and see what's beneath, have the trailer rewired, new plumbing (I can do that—I plumbed an entire barn or two once upon a time), new gas fittings, new furnace, probably a new water pump, new charger/converter; tear out the bathroom, rebuilt the shower, vanity, probably swap out the toilet (composting anyone?).

Seems simple, right? One day at a time. I once cleaned an entire farm (yes, think fields, fences, barns—anywhere a roving animal without a pen can go) one shovel at a time (I had a tractor to help) but most of it really was one shovel at a time. It took over a year. I figure an Airstream will be a piece of cake.

This blog will reveal whether or not my bold assertion will be realized, cake and all.

Thanks for joining the ride.