Back to bare metal

This is my caravan, a '2007' two-berth Elddis Avanté 362, as it was on 9th November 2006 at the Sussex Caravan Centre in Ashington, about to be bought by M--- and myself:

As you can see, it then cost a pound short of £11,000. Although bought in my name only, we each put up half. At her request, I refunded M---'s share to her on 6th July 2009, and I became the sole owner in all respects. My first thought was to sell it, thinking that I could not manage caravanning on my own. But an experimental outing convinced me that I could easily do it solo, and that selling the caravan would be a great mistake. It was an important holiday asset, albeit a depreciating one. But caravans depreciate only slowly. Even now, over sixteen years later, I might well get £1,000 for it in a private sale, possibly more. A dealer would ask as much as £4,000, such is the current demand for holiday accommodation on wheels. My target buyer would be a family wanting to try out caravanning without paying very much. Or (as was the fate of my previous caravan) I might sell it to an angler who just wanted a weekend base.

But I'm not selling yet. My mobile home-from-home is as nice to holiday in as it ever was. I've looked after it. The interior fittings and fabrics still look amazingly unworn, clean and inviting. It's still warm and comfortable. It's thoroughly roadworthy too, getting a comprehensive annual service. I've invested serious money in it in recent years, mainly to eliminate damp ingress - damp is every caravan's nemesis - with such things as a front end rebuild, a new double-glazed front window, and all the bodywork seams along both sides renewed. I want to enjoy the benefit of that work for a few more years, until my caravan is, say, 20 or 21 years old. Then I'll finally buy a replacement. It'll almost certainly have to be a used caravan - the nearest modern brand-new equivalent currently costs at least £20,000 - rather beyond my means! - but I can shop around, and will no doubt find something good for £12,000 or so. 

Meanwhile my caravan still looks pretty decent. Here it is, looking resplendent at Brora in northern Scotland on 9th September, not five months ago:

And here it is at Dunnet Bay, even further north, three days later:

This is not to say that when examined close up, there aren't many signs of its age. A caravan inevitably collects battle-scars. Road chippings, road tar, brushing against hedges, getting clunked by low boughs, and the dulling effect of the atmosphere on exterior surfaces, all gradually take away that sparkling showroom appearance. I won't say these blemishes aren't honourable: they are evidence of a long life going to nice places, of being used as the maker intended, and then beyond. And my goodness, my caravan is surely put to use more than most, and justifies owning a car like Fiona to pull it. 

Caravans actually get a terrible shaking from being towed. Every bump puts a strain on the bodywork and the fittings within. Sooner or later, things start to come apart. So inside my caravan, you can see (for instance) that the fridge-freezer has shifted a little, although presently stable. Shelves sag, and have to be fixed. Cupboard doors and roof hatches won't stay closed, and neat ways of securing them have to be devised. Makers use a lot of plastic to keep weight down, and that is likely to break after some years. I have little things to attend to after most trips. But it's only to be expected with such an old and well-used caravan, and after so many towing miles. Usually I can devise a low-cost or nil-cost solution within my very limited personal capabilities. It's very satisfying when such solutions work and look neat, especially as I don't rate myself highly as a skilled fixer. 

But recently something has happened that will permanently alter the exterior appearance of the caravan. 

The caravan is built on top of a strong, A-shaped galvanised steel frame, to which the wheels are attached. The front end of this frame projects forward beyond the caravan body, and it forms the towing arm onto which the towing assembly - the hitching-to-the-car mechanism, handbrake, jockey wheel, and car-to-caravan electrical cables - are bolted or clipped. It all looks exactly like the galvanised steel towing assembly on every other kind of trailer, such as a horse box. On caravans however, to make the front end look streamlined, stylish and elegant, most of the assembly is covered by a fairing. My caravan started out in 2006 with a white plastic fairing. It was still there last September. But now no more.  

Caravans are rather flimsy, and very vulnerable to damage. I well remember seeing what happened when a big container lorry, whose driver seemed to be chatting to another container lorry driver alongside on a three-lane dual carriageway, accidentally touched a caravan in the innermost lane. The entire side of the caravan disintegrated. Fortunately the traffic was dense, and we were all moving slowly at about 30 mph. Even so, it was shocking to see the effect of one very solid vehicle touching another that wasn't nearly as solid.   

The techniques used for building caravans have changed in recent years, to make them more waterproof. They are still fragile affairs though. They can't be otherwise. You can build a caravan very stoutly - think of the shiny stainless-steel Airsteam trailers - but it will be heavy. That's not good. Modern-day fuel economy for the towing car demands lightness; but it's difficult to achieve without compromising on structural strength. So my caravan is nothing much more than an insulated aluminium box, braced by its internal fittings, with fibreglass front and rear panels. The thinnish aluminium has accrued some dents over the years, mainly on the nearside. The thicker fibreglass ends have lasted pretty well, the rear-end piece in particular still looking almost new. 

But the moulded plastic fairing covering the front towing arm is another matter. Although not very thin, it is still weaker than the fibreglass, and much more vulnerable to frost damage and other kinds of deterioration. And it will flex. It was all right for a long time. Then cracks began to develop, at the front end mainly. In 2016, after ten years, a piece fell out on my drive at home:

In the first of my 'Lucy repairs' (as my next door neighbour Kevin humorously calls them) I glued the thing together again. But by 2018, another 'Lucy repair' was necessary, adding metal bracing to hold the fairing together at its front end. In an effort to preserve some appearance, I swathed it all in white tape:

This did the job for a while. And most of the time, whether at home or on site, the towing assembly had a hitch cover draped over it - as seen in this shot, taken last September at Forfar:

But now there were cracks all over the fairing. It was clear that it wouldn't stay intact much longer. I'd already enquired about getting a new replacement. But no dice. They weren't made for my caravan any more. I might if lucky find a used one at a scrapyard, of course. But that wasn't a very appealing option. Then, on 24th October, when coming off the M48 motorway at Chepstow, I heard a funny scraping noise. And found this when I could stop safely in a layby:

Oh dear, what a horrible sight - although not of course unexpected. I picked up the piece that was hanging off (and had been trailing in the road), put it in Fiona's boot, and drove on. The fairing was obviously kaput. But I left the rest of it in place, as some protection from the rainy weather. Although really there was no need. The underside of the metal now exposed had shrugged off sixteen years of often dire weather already. Removing the rest of the fairing wouldn't cause any harm. But I would do that back at home, as some cleaning would be needed.

Two days ago I got on with it. I removed the remaining fairing - it was riddled with cracks, and brittle. The bare metal now revealed looked dirty, but otherwise in great condition. (The yellow thing is the hitchlock, an anti-theft device)

Where the towing arm met the body of the caravan, there was now a gap where weather could get in, and things inside the front storage locker could fall out. 

That would have to be blocked off - a straightforward job involving a piece of spare wood cut to shape, and secured with a couple of bolts. (Kevin next door said he'd see what he could do, but this is something I can manage myself if he hasn't got the time)

I cleaned off the stray grease and much of the accumulated dirt.

That would do for now. A proper job would have to await warmer weather. I reattached the hitchlock, then slipped the hitch cover over the front end.

Standing back, the loss of the fairing didn't look too awful. The towing assembly now had a utilitarian look, and there was nothing sleek or stylish about it any longer. But it was after all the 'business end' of the caravan and getting back to bare metal ought not to be inappropriate. When new, the galvanised metal would have had a silvery appearance. It was silvery no more, and I doubted whether further cleaning would restore its original look. I could paint it, of course: perhaps white, grey or black. Or red. But I probably wouldn't. Painting would draw attention to it - and make it harder to assess its condition at servicing-time.

There was of course a useful new benefit to be enjoyed. I could now step onto the metal frame to clean my front windows, and the roof directly above them, rather more easily than before.