Where was Sheriff Buford T. Justice when I needed him?
Here’s a phrase that will never come out of my mouth again, “Let’s just rent a U-Haul and move this shit ourselves.”
I was a little girl (ok, so I was 13, whatever) when Eddie Rabbit sang about "Driving His Life Away". The minute I heard that song, I knew I wanted to drive a big rig for a living. (That was livin' large and dreaming the dream, huh?)
I have already stated that the vehicles I prefer to drive are my truck and the SUV. I love them, and don't tell me about my carbon fucking footprint, m'kay?.
I figured a little U-haul truck would be a piece of fucking cake. Apparently that’s incorrect and a fail.
You see, the Duke has been busy lately and I needed to put some old furniture into storage. I got sick of waiting for him to get around to it, so I decided to do it my damn self.
If you’ve never been to one of these storage mausoleums, it’s a real fucking treat. Here is a place, full of shit that people don’t want, but pay to store, that is more secure that Alcatraz.
First of all, they get nervous when The Royals want to put something into storage, but they try to be funny about it. “I see your part of the Royal Family. Who are you putting in there? Ha ha ha.”
“Nobody you know.”
Then they ask the token Homeland Security question. “You’re not planning on storing any chemical or biological agents in here are you?”
“Planning? No… I’m not “planning” on it.” The asshat then asks me to take my shoes off and go through a metal detector.
Meanwhile, seven guys who sound like they’re spitting when they talk are unloading drums of goddamn fertilizer, and screaming something about jihad in the space next to mine.
So I rent my space, on the third floor, and head over to U-Haul with my youngest son and daughter to rent “El Trucko.”
I called it “El Trucko” because anything that fucking big needed a title. I had reserved a small truck but they were all out so we got “El Trucko” at the small truck rates.
This fucking truck could have moved all of Mexico in one goddamn load.
I only needed to move a 241 pound 36 inch Sony TV, TV Stand, Dining Room Set and a bed.
When I hopped up into “El Trucko” I was immediately disappointed. There was no CB Radio.
How the hell was I gonna ask my good buddies if they’ve got their ears on without my goddamn CB radio?
I improvised and got out my cell phone and called my kids who were following behind me.
“Hey good buddies, I just passed another Kojak with a Kodak, this place is crawling with bears, where the hell are you? Bandit to Snowman, you got your ears on?" Can ya hear me now?”
My son was afraid.
“Mom, please don’t screw around in that truck. This isn’t “Smokey and the Bandit.”
Side Note: Line from the movie that makes me laugh every. single. time.
"Nobody, and I mean NOBODY makes Sheriff Buford T. Justice look like a possum's pecker. (Junior: "Except for that-") Shut your ass."
Too Late, I had already turned into Burt Reynolds or Jerry Reed. Actually I was more like Dom Delouise in “Smokey and the Bandit II, but whatever.”
As I’m driving back to my house to “load up” (that’s trucker talk, yo!) I started thinking of the wide open road, fresh air, country scenery, and where I could get a basset hound I could name Fred, it dawned on me. Maybe I was supposed to join a union to drive something this big. Maybe I was supposed to be a member of the Teamsters.
But the Teamster mind set wasn’t as much fun as the Smokey and the Bandit mind set so I kind of improvised it a little.
“So... How y’all doin? "What we're dealing with here is a complete lack of respect for the law."
Anyway not only am I not a truck driver... I’m no mover either. We dropped the fucking TV three times.
I knew we should have given it to the goddamn homeless guy.
Driving back to the self storage place, I started to sing, “East bound and down, loaded up and truckin, we gonna do what they say can't be done…..”
My daughter was crying.
When I pulled into the self storage lot there was only one space to park in and it was between two other very large trucks...of course.
Here’s another phrase you never want to hear yourself utter, “I think I can squeeze this baby in if I get the right angle.”
So, after I hit the front end and ripped the fucking bumper off the first truck, I found that although I was now fitting neatly into the space, there was no room to pull the ramp out of the damn truck to unload.
So I nudged it forward…ever so slowly…..
Now my front bumper is locked with the rear bumper of the goddamn truck in front of me.
My son was now suicidal.
“Jesus Christ Mom! Now what do we do?”
“We unload the fucking truck.”
We dropped the TV two more times and snapped a leg off of one of the dining room chairs, but I packed that stuff into that space like a shopping cart at a Mississippi Wal-Mart sale.
Then I went to the front office to confess to the crash while my son figured out how to unhook the trucks. I think he let air out of the tires to lower “El Trucko”.
“I kind of hit a truck back there.”
“We know we have you on our video surveillance cameras.”
This is a self storage facility filled with shit that people will eventually forget about.
Who designed this fucking place? The same guy that came up with the wrapping on DVD’s?
For a nice twist, the truck I tore the bumper off of is owned by a Korean swap meet vendor.
I told him I’d give him a 36 inch Sony TV if I didn’t have to report this to my insurance company.
I’m 10-7 good buddies...come back.