However, during my last show way back in June, the lights started getting squirrely on me (while it was pouring out of course). I asked Hubby if he could work on them. He killed them. All of them. I had nothing.
My horse ended up going lame anyway so the trailer has been sitting in the barn's parking lot waiting to be needed again and therefore fixed. Well now it's needed, and last Wednesday we took it in to get fixed.
Here's is why owning a horse trailer is not always fun and games.
Two weeks ago, we called a trailer distributor in Ontario that my BM recommended based solely on the fact that it was the only one within an hour's drive. The company mostly sells work trailers and trailers you would stick your riding lawn mower on. There have, on occasion, been horse trailers spotted there sometimes, too.
We got an appointment in a week's time for inspection (so slow about getting vehicles switched over to NY, and I don't even care), to fix the lights, and to see why the trailer brakes make you press the switch in the truck to engage them every time instead of just popping on automatically like they're supposed to--probably also something going on with the electric.
The appointment was made for a Thursday. The plan was to drop it off Wednesday afternoon so that Hubby could follow along behind me (no lights on a major highway is not the best thing) and not have to take any time off work.
I get to the barn, hook up the trailer in approximately two seconds flat because I am legit as shit when it comes to hitching this fucker and away we go.
Only we get to the company, and....
No one is there and gates are closed across the driveway with padlocks.
Now I'm pulled over on the side of a very busy road with no lights wondering what the fuck to do.
Hubby calls Dude. No answer.
Back to the barn we go where I slot the trailer back into its home in approximately two seconds flat because I have very recently become legit as shit when it comes to throwing this fucker in reverse and navigating obstacles.
First thing Thursday morning, the day we're supposed to have an appointment, Hubby calls Dude again. "Hey, Dude. Remember my trailer? Remember how you were going to fix it? Are we still on?"
"Hmm.... who is this again? Oh, here you are. I have you written down for Friday."
So now Hubby does take some time off work to follow me back up first thing Thursday morning to drop off the trailer so we don't run the chance of getting locked out again.
Friday rolls around. The company closes at five. At three, I call Hubby to see if he's heard anything.
Nope. He calls Dude. No one answers. He calls again. No one.
At four thirty, Dude calls back.
"I'd like to put a new set of brakes on. They look like they've been sitting for awhile. That will be $500."
"Some random fucking part needs to be replaced in the controller box. That will be $50."
"I have no earthly idea what is wrong with your electric. I'm going to just have to explore until I find something. That will be $75 an hour."
"Oh, and also you should think about getting two of these tires changed out eventually. We can do that here, too."
|(just put new tires on my car. byeeeee, money!)|
We have the money for these repairs--all of them. Our savings account is currently well stocked. But right now we're trying to accomplish a really big grown up thing, and the poor old horse trailer cannot be the priority.
Giant Mansion (might not actually be a giant mansion) versus Horse Trailer. Only one can win.
We were driving past the track the other day, and I told Hubby we should swing in and grab another Thoroughbred (providing we had a working trailer, LOL). Hubby said, "You horse people. The value you put on things is absurd. $500 to fix your trailer is outlandish. $500 to buy a horse is bottom of the barrel."
Yes, Hubby. But you can pet and squish and get daily instant gratification from the horse.