PSSST! YOU’RE BEING FOLLOWED!
I grew up in Asheville, North Carolina. The Smoky Mountains were my backyard, and an exit to the Blue Ridge Parkway was 10 minutes from my house. My friends and I spent most weekends hiking and camping, so we had all of the gear: tents and tarps, cooking sets, sleeping bags—you name it. We never minded carrying everything on our backs to a campsite, but packing five teenagers and their big, external-frame backpacks into one car to get there was impossible.
So, we bought a trailer.
It was a beat-up 4’ x 8’, and on Friday afternoons, we’d toss our packs in there, hitch up, and head out.
On those occasions when we stayed at a campground where you could drive up to your spot, we’d go all out with a
