First day on the road. It was a long day from San Francisco to somewhere between Palm Desert and Joshua Tree, and, as I’d soon learn, I had arrived in the windy zone. I backed the trailer in myself, without a spotter, into a mostly deserted RV park. Yes, I did that. And yes, that is a big deal. If you’ve ever tried to back up a trailer solo, you know it’s an art form—a dance where only one partner knows the steps, and the other is a metal box on wheels that couldn’t care less if you ram a tree. Or someone’s Mercedes.
Just as a side note, the best thing you can do when you’re out on the road and you have an option, is not to back in at all. But you have to be careful when you pull in forward to a spot because that can be a problem too if someone pulls in too close to you or in front of you and you have to back up out of a very small space. Don’t rely on this method. Learn to back it up.
I mentioned before that I knew nothing absolutely nothing about towing a trailer. In fact, I knew nothing about trailers at all. I didn’t know how they worked but mine was small so something in my brain told me it would be easier. I’m not sure how I arrived at that but it was quickly blown out of the water.
Backing up is a technique—a skill that you must learn early (you know, before you go!). That means taking it out to the middle of the Walmart parking lot in the middle of the night and practicing.
There’s a technique to backing up. Just like there’s a technique for everything. It’s a lesson I had learned back in my public relations days. You have to think like you’re the target audience, or, in this case, the trailer. For this you will need to fight your instinct to go about things the way you have before.
Technically it goes like this. When you want the trailer to go left, you turn your car steering wheel right. When you want it to go right, you turn left. It’s like a cruel joke the universe is playing on you.
Get comfortable with this because it’s always when you’re in a hurry and someone is waiting for you to get out of the way that you have to back up quickly and correctly without hitting anything, so make quite a few trips to the Walmart parking lot before you leave.
Go slowly at first making small corrections. It only takes slight turns of the steering wheel to turn the trailer otherwise you’re going to counter-steer. The trailer goes the wrong way and you counter-steer again. The trailer finally does what you want—except now it’s too far one way or the other. So, then you pull forward and start over. And over.
Eventually, after what feels like a slow-motion chase scene, you’ll line up perfectly in that parking spot. Your hands will be sweaty, your heart will be racing, and you’ll realize that backing up a trailer is less about skill and more about pretending you know what you’re doing while looking confident. Bonus points if no one saw your 28 attempts.
I had some better advice though early on when a guy saw me struggling. He said here’s the trick, “Place one hand at the bottom of the steering wheel and turn it in the direction you want the trailer to go (not the car). It’s all about the mystique of the ball hitch and you want to do it right or you’ll do something called a jackknife. That’s when the side of the trailer touches the side of the car. You really want to avoid doing that. Backing up a trailer is counterintuitive, and your brain will fight you. But in the end, there is smug satisfaction knowing you conquered that bit of brain space.