Corona.
Crepes have always been a special part of our family Christmas tradition. After the coffee is brewed and the presents are opened, our kitchen becomes a bustling gathering place. Crepe batter is mixed with a touch of vanilla and a dash of cinnamon. Each delicate crepe is made and carefully stacked into a warming oven. Serving bowls line the kitchen table with mixed berries, pears, bananas, apples, granola, chocolate chips, Nutella, honey, almond butter, apricot preserves, lemon curd, mascarpone and fresh whipped cream. The shaker for the confectioners sugar is located and filled - a kitchen item that only seems to make its appearance for this occasion. Once the coffee is poured and the juice cups filled, the make-your-own crepe tradition commences. Crepes unite us as a family, leaving behind the commercialization that tries to take hold each holiday season. And as we savor each delicious bite, we joke that maybe someday, we will turn our making crepe tradition into a business and share our love of crepes with others.
March 2020. This time will be remembered as when the world stopped. Within just a few short days, lives were turned upside down. Businesses closed, employees were laid off, and the health and future economic status became uncertain. Instinctive to surviving and natural entrepreneurs, we quickly moved away from fear and panic and began brainstorming ways to create income. The old dream of renovating a vintage camper, combined with the idea of sharing our love for crepes, moved to the forefront and quickly became a logical and economical path. With sweat equity, the investment was minimal. The business would be mobile, the overhead affordable and proper social distancing could be obtained. It checked all the boxes so this became the perfect time to push our dream into action. If nothing else, we thought, a renovation would give us something to do to stay busy during quarantine time.
Within a day, we spotted a fixer upper for sale in Vermont. It was a 1966 Shasta Airflyte and because that is my birth year we felt compelled to check it out. The news announced that state borders would be closing with strict quarantine restrictions just as we headed to Vermont. We drove in anticipation and excitement, knowing that this vintage camper might likely be our one shot at the possibility of helping our uncertain future.
Corona was sitting in the middle of a muddy field. We were relieved that this Vermont winter had been mild. When I spotted her I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as my future stared back at me. After hours of scoping her out apprehensively, we decided that she was worthy of the risk. Bryant promised me that beyond her peeling paint he could turn her into my vision. He said, “she has good bones, and after all, her parts alone are worth more than the purchase price”. I watched with uncertainty as Bryant towed her from the field and used zip ties to attach an old trailer plate with a 3 year expired inspection sticker to her bumper. To this day we are uncertain why the police car that followed us the many miles out of Vermont didn’t pull us over.
Someone was giving us one free pass.
