Alan Liere: The dreaded season of sinister trailers is almost here

I always get a little tense this time of year because the summer fishing/camping season is about to begin and I know I will once again be scrutinized, critiqued and derided because of my hateful association with trailers.

There are two major requirements to master if you own a trailer – be it boat trailer, travel trailer or even a simple trailer used for hauling camping gear. You must be able to back them up using side mirrors and hook up the lights. I don’t do either well.

It is confounding to me that trailer lights will not work from one season to the next. A trailer can go into winter storage with running lights, brake lights and turn signals working perfectly and emerge broken down and dysfunctional in the spring. This means I must undertake the onerous task of checking fuses, replacing bulbs and rewiring.

The worst of these is the rewiring, for I have the mechanical aptitude of a turnip. What should be a simple task is an all-day ordeal that results in barked knuckles and excessive cursing.

Last year, I rewired the little trailer I would pull behind my camper when my family and I drove west to spend a week camping at the ocean. When the task was finally completed, I hooked the trailer to my camper and had my son stand behind it as I hit the brakes, turned on the lights, and used the turn signals. Everything checked out, but after getting several middle-finger salutes from drivers both behind and in front of me as I passed through the little town of North Bend, I realized I hadn’t told my son which turn signal I was testing. When my camper turn signal indicated a right turn, the trailer turn signal indicated I was going left. This, of course, was confusing to everyone and resulted in some close calls at intersections.

Even if my boat trailer lights are in working order when I leave for an evening of kokanee fishing on Loon Lake, they are never working on the return trip after dark. Less dangerous but more embarrassing is my inability to back my boat down the ramp. During my pathetic zigzagging, there is a profusion of caustic comments from my passengers, which once became so relentless I aborted the launch and drove back home. My only regret was that, for once, my passengers hadn’t gotten out to direct me down the ramp.

I’m convinced I could attempt to back my boat into the water in the most remote lake in Canada and at least two people would suddenly appear to stand behind me gesticulating wildly in an attempt to guide me into the water. This unwanted help is guaranteed to cause me to begin sweating profusely, lose my temper and jackknife the trailer. Looking through the side mirrors, I can never figure out if a finger pointed to the right means I should turn the steering wheel that way, the trailer that way, or if they are calling attention to the fact I have one wheel on the dock.

I am optimistic a recent epiphany is going to alleviate my trailer trauma, however. My son, who lives next door and fishes with me often, has no difficulty at all backing a trailer or fixing trailer lights. He told me he could teach me to do both in short order but he now admits he was wrong. That’s why I bought him a little boat and trailer for his birthday. This year, we’re taking his.