A Modular Teardrop Kitchen

I channeled the skills of every man I've known while working on this part of my teardrop project, since power tools are not my forte. No offense to my fellow-females, but I don't know any who are more than handy with a hammer and screwdriver.  (I take that back...remember the gal who used to back up Bob Vila?  She became one of those Entertainment Tonight hosts, but boy, could she wield power tools on This Old House.  Both were early role models for me.)

The back was as empty as the inside, except for a pull-out sink, a small crate-shelf attached to the back wall, the blue cooler and, not shown, a car battery behind the sink.  Attached to the underside of the shelf was a strip of 12V lights, and two more spotlights like the ones inside were in the ceiling. 

Here's what it looks like one year later.  It might be a bit busy for some but BUSY suits me just fine.  As you follow along, please remember this: everything needs to be removed for an eventual cross-country trek (read  A Teardrop Transformed).

As it turned out, the battery had a crack in it and acid was leaking on to the wood. At first I thought the teardrop itself was leaking because I'd mop up the 'water' but it would be back the next day, after a rain.

When it was wet without any rain I ran my finger through the liquid to give it a sniff and that's when I knew, ow! Good thing I didn't lick it like a cat. The battery was HUGE and weighed a ton; for just those few lights?  It took all my strength to pull it out, and a friend got rid of it for me.  The hole is for the hose connected to the sink, covered with a green accordion fabric sleeve.  You put a container under the teardrop to collect the 'grey' water, then dispose of it properly.  No, you don't drain it on the ground.

The 'sink' is set in a pull-out, removeable shelf, which is nice if I need the space.  Unfortunately, not only was the wood damaged by the acid, but when I lifted the wet fabric hose out of the liquid (I still thought it was water) and placed it inside the nice, shiny stainless steel sink to get it out of the way, the acid pitted that, too.  God, I was ruining my rig in the first week!  This is how it looks AFTER I used baking soda, etc, my nice, shiny sink.  At least I won't worry about messing it up.

I began by sanding and sealing the damaged wood, that took more than one attempt; then used black chalk paint on the entire lower area. I use the inexpensive Waverly brand found in Walmart and elsewhere, very simple to use.  (Note:  Chalk paint and Chalkboard paint are two different animals.)

Two wood posts hold up the 50-pound 'lid' (see top photo), I don't know what to call the back.  But I had to stand on my tippy-toes to hold the lid up in order to prop up the posts. The tops are placed in wooden flanges but the bottoms simply rest against the sides.  Too many times one post slipped out while I was propping up the other, I'd kill myself if I wasn't careful.  So when I cut down the posts with my hobby jig-saw,  I used the scraps as stops.

I bought my first electric drill for this project, and I was so excited to be successfully using it.  I didn't know what to use for 'cabinets' so I looked at other people's rigs for inspiration.

I had seen a photo of this teardrop with a sliding shelf on the bottom, which the builder had installed for the huge blue cooler.  But the sliding shelf was gone; only the screw holes remained.  I didn't imagine needing such a large cooler but liked the idea of sliding shelves and baskets, since it would make retrieving items easier and keep things more organized.  (I eventually decided to keep the cooler rather than give it away, it makes a handy seat and work surface.  I'll put it somewhere.)

I've never installed sliding shelves and didn't know how they worked, so I read up on it.  My main dilemma was finding something not too deep (so the lid could close), because most household cabinets are much deeper.  I finally found a wire basket through Amazon, 17-3/4" deep, from Seville.  I liked it so much I added a second.  I lost a bit of space but absolutely LOVE how they look and work.  They're well made, slide all the way out (vs 3/4) and they look pretty.  As always, when I look for things like this I'm concentrating on size AND weight.

The basket-shelves hold my small cooler, a single burner stove (propane AND butane), tools and all kinds of crap.  The little burner is sitting on the sink shelf, but it has a carrying case.  I bought a folding metal 'guard' and four cans of butane, and as I planned the area I visualized a safer space to use the stove.

I own a nice, largely unused portable electric grill I picked up in 2017, which I've cooked on 3 or 4 times.  I keep imagining myself becoming this capable, outdoorsy-chef who can whip up gourmet meals amidst gale-force winds, gosh darn-it!  But just in case, I'll bring along my electric skillet, since when I go to campgrounds I'll probably opt for the extra $$ so as to have water and power at my site.  A friend drilled a hole through the cabin wall  (I doubted my skill) and I installed a port-plug, rather than draping an extension cord through a window.

While all this was going on, I scoured GW for ideas. I picked up inexpensive crates and a small, lightweight breadbox and whitewashed them.  Wanting to soften the look of the space, I painted the side walls white then lightly sponged some beige on top.  I played around with configurations.  The original long crate, already attached to the wall, was limiting my creativity so I took it down.  I was visualizing a space for a beverage cooler or other water dispenser, using the fruit can as a 'spacer'.

I also began painting the ceiling and planning my 'view'.  I can't help myself - whenever I see blank walls I want to paint something.  I figured if so much time is spent in the back because there's nowhere else to go, I might as well look at something so I began with the sky.  Then came the trellis with raspberry vines, and finally a couple of birds with a nest.  Like everything else, it was a process.

When I paint I like to use glazes, so when I'm working on something and don't like the colors, like the original color of the sky, I put a wash of color on top to achieve what I want.  As you see it's much brighter.  It took several weeks to finish this job, a little at a time, and my neck was killing me.  I don't know how Michelangelo worked on the Sistine Chapel for 4 years.

Here's a close-up of the trellis.  I enjoy adding details and tend to go overboard, because I just don't know when to stop.  

The view developed over time. I'm not comfortable painting landscapes because with my vision the world looks flat, and it's hard to paint what I don't see.  But I keep at it until I'm satisfied, or sick of it.

As the scene developed I incorporated bits and pieces of my life, for no particular reason:  Mom's fruit knife on the shelf; BC and me on the beach; Canadian geese, which I love to watch (added later); rooster and hen S&P shakers, to remind me of the ones running around this property.  

Here's my friend and me parasailing in Seattle.  Vickie helped me get through some difficult times following Tino's death, and when I went up to visit we really went UP.

Tulips, sunflowers, a dream cottage in the distance, and water, always water.  Makes me smile when I open the back, and it's fun to watch people discover details in my paintings.

As I worked on this area, I began to wish for a couple gas struts to help raise and lower the lid, like I'd seen on some other teardrops. Plenty of people used sticks, but struts seem more, I don't know, elegant.

So I investigated gas struts ad nauseum.  It's not as easy as you'd think, but I watched YouTube videos, examined formulas (anyone who's worked with struts knows what I'm talking about) and measured over and over, finally ordering two.  This is when I learned the lid was 50 pounds, because you need to know before ordering struts.  I also had to figure out which end brackets I needed, and even attached them to the struts myself, not the easiest thing.

I put off installing them because I was a-fear'd, but finally gave it the old college try.  No guts, no glory.  I added a couple wood blocks to try and give the struts stronger supports than just the wall; plus they helped line up the strut.

They looked pretty good, even if I wasn't 100% certain of their placements.  I could always tweak them; the guys online did.  The wood posts supported the lid while I attached the struts, but now it was time to remove them and test my job.  I took the photo, just in case.  I was scared to death.

I slowly pulled the lid down.  Wow, it's really closing, then  CRUNCH.  I opened it up and here's what happened to the right side.  I had to try it again to see if the left side kept working.  CRUNCH.  It wasn't as bad as this side but still, if I wasn't careful I'd rip the sides completely off.

The gas struts themselves were not a failure; but the installation was a terrible defeat to me.  I shoulda known...I'd seen evidence where the builder tried installing a strut, but I assumed I could do better.  Hubris!  I'd waited too long to try them out and it was too late to return them, so  I tried selling them on Craigslist and ultimately gave them to friends who are retro-fitting something-or-other.

This rig has it's limitations, but the pros certainly outweigh any cons.   I only lost about $60 but gained quite a bit of useless information, as Mom would say; like it's amazing how many people install struts upside down.

I patched the screw holes, fixed the wood and repainted it all; and was kinda glad the struts didn't work because I would have lost a few inches of valuable side-to-side space.  Guess I'll have to use the posts.

They had to be painted, of course, and I had fun experimenting with faux-stones.  They're more interesting-looking, and as the comedian Gallagher always advised, (sic) "If you're gonna do something, do it with STYLE."

I found another breadbox...a nicer, bigger one; a real bargain in GW.  However, I didn't want to whitewash it but painted it as you see.  Which meant I had to re-paint the smaller breadbox to compliment it, it's a compulsive thing.

Well, there went the crate idea.  I decided to add a shelf and found the perfect one in GW.  I did cut it shorter because I have two tall items which may be used at the same time.  I semi-permanently attached the breadboxes in place on and under the shelf, see below.

This is all theoretical, but I'm planning based on what I've needed in my RV's and on the boat, now that I think about it.

FRESH WATER. I have an Igloo beverage cooler, but I needed something else to hold the water over the sink. I didn't want to tip over a water container because that's a lot of weight for my shaky hands to manage.  Luckily I found a nice red metal container with a stand (in GW), which I can slide to the edge of the shelf and the spigot sticks out enough to drain into the sink.

I kept moving things around and finding other things, and I'd take pictures, look at them on the computer and design the next day's work.  Some things worked, some didn't; but for the Goodwill items in particular I didn't lose any sleep.

I picked up an old Air Force file box (stamped on the bottom), with dovetail corners, and rigged it up to be a sliding shelf under the sink.  I'd become so immersed in sliding shelves that it was on the brain; when I accidentally discovered how I could make this work.

Using the cabin window's original 2-piece adjustable curtain rods, I turned the brackets around on one end and screwed them down to the back of the cabinet; then screwed and taped the other side to the bottom of the file box.  It's hinky to work and not exactly practical, but it adds some extra space for cleaning supplies and keeps the box off the bottom, in case anything leaks in the future.  Another good reason to have those baskets.

A make-shift paper towel holder, using a dowel, cup hooks and string, hangs under the sink-shelf, but I'm still debating that one.  I had bunting across the whole space but then covered up below the sink with a mini flag.  The bunting I made myself after finding a package of blanks in GW.   I stained them with coffee, works better than tea; then stamped them using black paint and wooden craft stars I picked up without knowing what to use them on.  I'm telling you, shopping at Goodwill is an addiction I must curb.

I found somebody's homemade, painted grey, wooden cabinet, I couldn't resist, and re-painted it (here it is in the center, red, green and black, with fruit).  I gave it away because it's too heavy and not really practical in the teardrop; and it doesn't fit in my RV, darn.  Otherwise, I think I'm finished with my kitchen makeover.

Because it's all modular I'll either use bungee's to keep things in place (I've got hooks placed here and there), pack them elsewhere or leave them at home.

Other jobs included replacing the old weather stripping along the edges, and I'm considering adding a bumper to the back, not sure how to do that yet but I've started reading up on it. 

Gee, after all this, painting the outside to resemble Bilbo's house in Bag End should be a piece of Oregon Marionberry Pie!

To read my inside makeover, please visit, A Teardrop Transformed.