It's gonna take more than three days...

....for this trailer's resurrection.

Since it's Easter Sunday it seamed a more apt comparison than something to do with rabbits. I digress.
     Well, the shell and the frame came apart with almost no hitch. As Max Smart once said, "Missed it by that much." I neglected to unhook the propane regulator from the trailer body. Thankfully pot metal snaps before aluminum rips. So once we heard a loud snaaaap the body and the trailer came apart.

I imagine this means I now have a disembodied trailer. Sounds like a lot of people I know. Oops—digressing again.
     Upon examining the frame I discovered that luckily, most of the rust is on the surface. There are a few outriggers than will need repair and a cross-member or two as well. One of the previous owners backed up too vigorously and dimpled the frame just behind the second axle. No worries. I'll grind out the weakened  material and weld in some new plate. Otherwise, the frame looks good. New axles should arrive in about 5 weeks. Week after next I'm going to sandblast the nooks and crannies of the frame and then prime and paint. Ah, but first, I'll be making a gantry. Just Google the word and you'll see what's in store. The prospect of sandblasting the underside of the frame whilst on my back does not fill me with joy, so the extra work required to build the gantry will be worth it. I should've built it first and lifted the shell off with it—would've simplified putting the two back together, but smart-neighbor-Pat says reattachment will not be a problem.
     Hmm....my unused music brain has just figured out that this project reflects the ABA sonata form: home—away—home (that is, trailer—separation—new trailer). One could also use a theological metaphor: attachment—detachment—reattachment.  Who knew renovating an Airstream could benefit one's ontological framework, their sitz im Leben, a renewed Weltanschauung. Or, get a sore back, pinched fingers, covered in steel dust and rust, have old insulation fall in their mouth....you get the idea.

Any regrets yet, you ask? None so far. While it's much easier to take things apart, the real test will be putting the whole thing back together. Mr. Gestallt will ring true: if I forget one of the parts, the whole will definitely be less than great.