Guest Post by Dawn Langton: On the Teardrop Camper Trail
When I was kid, my mother aspired to a singlewide. She grew up in our house, a rambling Dutch Colonial on Long Island. My friends loved its weird nooks and crannies and creepy cellar. My mom hated that it always needed work and took forever to clean.
So in the New York suburbs of the 1960s, when most adults thought bigger was better, she longed for a simple trailer in the woods. Later, she discovered tiny log cabins, and lobbied my father endlessly to make the move. She finally got her wish, in a way, when they retired to what she called her “treehouse,” a small, rustic duplex on stilts on the Gulf Coast of Florida.