By Fred Steiner
Recently it occurred to me that I would soon (on Nov. 9) enter my sixth decade of existence. Wanting to make the event memorable I asked my wife for suggestions on how to celebrate it.
She immediately went on Facebook and asked a host of people who I hardly recognize what I ought to do 60 times on Nov. 9. Several yawned. A couple responded.
It was my nephew, Nate of Homewood, Illinois, whose response caught my attention. He suggested to "drive the trailer to the dump 60 times."
Allow me to explain.
I'm named after my father, the late Nelson F. Steiner. He was 6-4 in his prime and wore shoe size 14. I was 5-11 in my prime and wear shoe size 10 in a stretch.
So, I've always consider myself a "Half-Nelson" and my father a "Full-Nelson," if you get my drift.
Somewhere between 1965 and 1969 Full Nelson build by scratch his own trailer. He was proud to point out that its bed was constructed with three-quarter inch plywood. His meaning was clear: It was not constructed with one-half inch plywood, which obviously made a difference.
This masterpiece came equipped with two 1956 Mercury snow tires. He took a 90-gallon oil drum, cut it in half to create those things above the tires that keep the mud from spewing all over the place.
The only item that Full Nelson couldn't do himself was the welding. That project went to Frank Steiner (no relation). Full Nelson painted his masterpiece "Trailer Green." He was very proud of it, as you might image.
The trailer toured most of the Midwest during its muscle years. Only one major mishap occurred in the life of the trailer. This took place as Half Nelson and Full Nelson hauled the components of a merchant's building county fair display to the Allen County Fair down I-75. At the time Full Nelson sold World Book and had a booth in the merchant's building.
Anyway, the contents of the trailer dropped onto the interstate just north of Beaverdam. That was the only day I heard my dad use Swiss terminology that was previously not used in my presence. We quickly solved the problem. When getting back into the car, he said to me, "Don't tell your mother about this."
I agreed this would be the wise course to follow.
In its retirement years, the trailer's primary use was hauling items to the Bluffton Spring Street dump. Hundreds of loads of brush went there. Hundreds.
Anyway, the trailer became mine, after my dad died. By this time, however, there was more than just one problem with the trailer, not counting the fact that the hitch was touchy. The major problem was that the license plate on the trailer was registered in my dad's name. When I asked the Ohio Department of Motor Vehicles how I might transfer the title, the reply was: "Go to Probate Court." This simple task, I discovered, would have cost more than the value of the trailer. Much more.
For weeks I pondered my dilemma. What was I to do? Then, using the Swiss ingenuity I recalled Full Nelson mumble when the county fair booth fell on the interstate, I came up with a plan.
The trailer was licensed in the name of Nelson F. Steiner of 201 N. Lawn Ave., Bluffton, Ohio. I, too, was Nelson F. Steiner. At the time, I was even a part owner of 201 N. Lawn Ave., Bluffton, Ohio, along with A. Rudolph Steiner of Homewood, Ill, and Mary Margaret Steiner Lord of Shorewood, Wisc.
I was not, however, the Nelson F. Steiner, whose name was on the trailer licensing paper trail.
Despite this, I went online, avoiding the Allen County license bureau, and renewed the plates successfully in the name of Nelson F. Steiner. Later, I sold the trailer for a couple dead presidents to a Byers who used it for a time and then later sold it to someone else.
I honestly don't know where the trailer with a good set of 1956 Mercury snow tires and a three-quarter inch plywood bed is today.
But, just for kicks, if I knew, I might try driving it from my house to the dump 60 times on Nov. 9.
