Pre-owned trailers · sold one at a time
Howdy. Name's Del. For sixteen years I've been hauling tired travel trailers home to a gravel lot outside of Powell Butte, sorting out what's worth saving, and passing 'em along to folks who'd rather not buy a surprise. No dealership. No salesman. Just a shed, a pressure washer, and a long checklist on a clipboard that's gone soft at the corners.
Small rotation. When one sells, another rolls in. Each gets an honest write-up — good, bad, and the in-between. Lot numbers are just what I scratch on the windshield in grease pencil.
Found this one behind a pole barn out in the Ochoco foothills. Original owner had passed and his son wanted it gone before the snow came. Skin's got that soft chalking vintage folks like — no dents, no creases. Floor's solid all the way around the wheel wells, which is where these Shasta-pattern units usually rot. Atwood range works. Dometic icebox converted to a dorm fridge. Propane tested good at 11 inches water column, held steady.
Estate trailer out of Klamath County. Full wet bath, queen up front, U-dinette converts to a 40x72. Furnace is a workhorse — pulls 30,000 BTU without so much as a hiccup. I swapped the water pump, a sketchy 20-amp breaker, and the kitchen J-trap (classic fitting crack, don't tell me you haven't seen one). Buyer's a forest-service fella up near Chemult — shaking hands the first Saturday in May if the thaw cooperates.
Prettiest rig I've had on the gravel in a while. Riveted aluminum skin, birch lower cabinets still showing the dovetails, original icebox pulled and a little 12-volt Norcold slipped in neat. Roof was re-membraned with Dicor by a shop in Redmond before I got it, and I've got the receipt in the folder. Not cheap, not trying to be. The kind of trailer folks turn around to look at on Highway 20.
Went home with a young couple and two kiddos the week before last. Kept this one up here longer than usual 'cause I wanted the Lippert slide rebuilt proper before it rolled out — new seal kit, new sync shaft bearings, the works. Worth the wait. Listing stays up so folks can see what sort of thing rolls through.
A note on the lot numbers, since a few folks have asked: I skip 13. No particular reason. My uncle skipped it on his welding jobs and it stuck.
Because when you show up, the fella who looked the trailer over is the one standing there. I'm not gonna forget what I found, and I'm not gonna forget what I fixed. If something's a little funny — a soft spot under the dinette, a converter that whines above 13.8, a fridge that takes forty minutes to cool in August — I'll tell you. Before you ask. Before you sign. Before you hitch up.
I also don't flip. A flipper buys Tuesday and lists Wednesday. I tow it home, park it, sleep on it, drive it, cuss at it a little, and only then put a price on the windshield.