It started out to be a great April 1st. You know, with it being April Fool’s Day and all. But, first, let’s back up just a little bit to Easter Sunday.
After our Easter dinner of spaghetti (so very traditional) and egg-hunting fun, Hunter helped me get down all the trash from the man cave attic. He also helped me put some boxes and totes up there for storage. Taking advantage of the fact that I was taking a load to the dump, hubby decided to add a few more items to the trailer. He threw in a bag full of weeds that he’d dug up in the landscaping, and three 5-gallon buckets that he didn’t want to put out with our weekly trash pickup.
The trailer was loaded about as full as it could be loaded and hubby hooked it up to his truck and pulled it out into the driveway. But, not before he warned us that one of the buckets was leaking. What’s leaking? Tar! Liquid, blacker than black, sticky, gooey, fume-smelling tar. Okay, no big deal. We’ll watch out for it. As hubby pulled the trailer out of the garage, I could see a few small puddles of the black goo on the garage floor. I’ll have to be sure not to step in that mess!
The big truck and fully loaded trailer were parked in the yard beside our machine shed, ready for heading out to the dump come Monday. Yay! It feels so good to get rid of unnecessary/unwanted junk and make space!
The plan for Monday was to haul the trash to the dump where Hunter would help me unload it, and we’d go to where his Mom works and drop him off, along with three dozen eggs I’d gathered for her. That was the plan.
We hadn’t gone a mile down the road when a bag of trash fell out of the trailer. I asked Hunter if he could run back and get it and throw it on the trailer because I don’t know how to back up a trailer and had never done it! Then, I saw that we were near an incline and realized that cars coming behind us may not see him in the road. Frantic, I yelled, “Never mind! I’ll pick it up on my way back home!” Too late. Hunter already had the bag in his hands. That boy can RUN! He had a funny look on his face and was trying to handle the bag carefully? I thought maybe it had a sharp object protruding from it or something. Nope! Turns out, the leaky tar bucket really did leak and the one bag that fell out of the trailer was covered in it. Hunter tossed the bag back on the trailer with some oomph and irritation and was standing inside the passenger door showing me his hands. His black, tar-dripping hands! Of course he couldn’t touch anything with that mess, so I got out of the truck and walked around to close the passenger side door once he was seated.
On the road again!
Hunter held his hands up, careful not to touch anything. He put his hands together and pulled them apart, watching how the tar reacted. I was only driving 30 mph and we had several miles to get to the dump. But, what about his hands?? I said, “I know. I’ll go to the Dollar General and get some goo-gone!” We arrived at the DG about 15 minutes later and I surveyed the parking lot to determine if I could enter and exit it with this big rig without issue. I was not 100% sure it could be done without any use of the reverse gear, so I parked on the little side street between the DG and the police station (where I could strategically turn around in their huge lot). In the DG we go. Good thing they have automatic doors.
Hunter walked through the store like a surgeon who’d just had his hand sterilized. We headed directly to the cold drink aisle so he could choose an energy drink, and I grabbed a water. Then off to the cleaning section! There was no goo-gone. Okay, we’ll check the hardware/automotive section. No goo-gone. Great! So, I asked the only store clerk I could find if they carried Goo-gone and she walked us back to the cleaning section and said that if it wasn’t there, we could check the hardware section (where we’d already searched). She added, “If it’s not there, we likely don’t have any.” Smart. So, I thought I’d look one more time in that hardware/auto section. I scoured the shelves, reading all the labels, looking for that yellow liquid in the clear bottle labeled Goo-gone. Nope. Not there. But, what else do they have here? A kind gentleman that I’d questioned near the cleaning aisle where I picked up a couple rolls of paper towels said to “use gasoline.” Gasoline? He said it always worked for him. Okay. I thought of that, while back in the auto section. Well, they don’t sell gasoline in the Dollar General and I wasn’t about to go to a gas station and spray Hunter’s hands with it from the pump. What’s this? Carburetor cleaner! Well, if it’s strong enough to clean a carburetor, surely it can clean off some tar. We make our purchase of carb cleaner, paper towels, an energy drink and water then off toward the truck we go.
I had Hunter squat down near the curb so the wind wouldn’t spray the cleaner in his face, and proceeded to soak his hands with Carb-out. It immediately began to break down the tar which Hunter smeared all over his hands. I spray some more and give him a clean paper towel. He scrubs. In about five minutes’ time, his hands were at least clean enough to open the truck door, use his phone and drink his energy drink. Yay. Victory!
On we go, through the police station parking lot to turn this rig around. You really do need 40 acres, just like the song says!
At last, we arrived at the dump. There is only one lane to enter and exit and there were three trucks lined up waiting to be weighed, pay their bill, and leave. We sat there for several minutes patiently (well, as patient as I can be anyway) awaiting our turn to enter. Nope, another truck joins the others who are leaving. Dammit! After 5 or so exiting trucks get the frack out of my way, we are able to drive upon the scale and head to the dump zone. At last!
Remember, I can’t/never have backed up a trailer, right? I was about to park and ask one of the other dumper dudes if they could back it up for me, when I saw that I could semi-turn around by the end of the giant dump container and we’d only have to walk a little ways between it and the trailer. And, I would still be able to get out of there without using the reverse gear. Score! I helped Hunter all I could, with my weak, non-manly arms. It was going quite well and I enjoyed flinging the lighter bags/boxes into that hopper with victorious gusto!
I even climbed up in the trailer and maneuvered bags and boxes to the edge so Hunter would have easier access, all while strategically avoiding the tar puddles and smears on the trailer bed. Then, it happened. I took one step and then – try as I might – when I tried to take another, my foot felt awfully heavy. Like, did it gain weight? Just now? Nope. I’d successfully planted my foot in a tar puddle. When I lifted my foot out of it, I nearly lost my Croc! My mind flashed back to that scene in Home Alone when Marv is going up the tar-covered basement steps in bare feet then he steps on that 9-inch nail. OUCH! Scratch that vision! Delete. Delete! Great. You know what happens when the bottom of your shoe is covered with tar and you step in gravel? It picks up every grain of gravel that it possibly can. Then, your Croc is really heavy. Fun times. Bright side, it gave my right calf a bit of a workout.
But we were there to complete a mission, and I was determined that said mission would be completed! I continued to help Hunter all I could and before we knew it, the trailer was empty! Yay! I was thanking him for all of his hard work when I noticed that he had tar on his black U.K. hoodie sleeve. I rolled it up so as to prevent it from spreading elsewhere. Then, I saw that he had tar on his nice camouflage pants. “Oh, no!” I said. While Hunter assured me that the clothes he was wearing were not good clothes and that he didn’t care, I noticed there was tar on his Nike shoes, too! Again he said that the shoes were not his good ones. Geesh! I felt terrible.
With our mission completed, we piled back into the truck and headed out. But, not until I gave Hunter all the cash I had on me, which I think was $37, and Air pods for his iPhone. He said, “That wasn’t even two hours of work.” I said, “You earned every bit of that money,” as I thanked him very appreciatively.
Now we were ready to go to Hunter’s Mom’s work so he could hang there until she was done. But, wait. He was covered in tar! Hunter said that his brother was likely at home and that I could drop him off there. I said that sounded good, but added I wouldn’t be able to drive up their driveway (and get back out). He said that wouldn’t be a problem, he could walk up from the road. Hunter called his brother and asked, “Are you home?” to which I heard Conner say, “No, we’re driving.” Where were they driving to? The Redi Mart, just 5 minutes from where we were! Perfect timing! I said, “We’ll be there in 5 minutes!” and we headed that way. We are really making progress now!
Hunter hadn’t eaten anything since he stayed the night with us and I wanted to get him some food. There’s a DQ directly across from the Redi Mart and I asked if he’d like anything from there. He said, “Like what?” I said, “Like food. You need to eat.” He opted for a 3-piece chicken strip basket. Yay! He was going to eat!
We left DQ and pulled into the Redi Mart lot. Hunter’s dad and brother were getting gas, so I pulled around the lot to stay out of the way. Hunter got a sundae with his DQ meal and didn’t want it and said Conner would like it. So, I pulled up beside their truck to exchange the goods while Hunter gathered his belongings. I was between the store entrance and their truck, just having a lil chat with the boys and making sure Hunter got all of his belongings out of the truck. It was time to go, head home, because a new refrigerator was being delivered that afternoon. Yay! So many exciting adventures are happening today! This April 1st!
Not so fast, Vonda!!!
As I hit the gas and started to pull away from the store entrance, I heard an awful screeching sound! What the…?! Apparently, the fender of the trailer tire hit Redi Mart’s 5-inch diameter iron guardrail from hell! Hunter tried to guide me to back up and get away from it. No good. His dad tried to guide me as well. No good. Then, he said, “Let me get up in there,” and I said, “I thought you’d never ask!” He was able to get the fender away from the guardrail. However…the iron guardrail’s mighty kiss left the fender bent inward and it was pressed against the tire—tightly. Well, I’m not going anywhere now! GREAT!!
The boys’ dad got his 4-way lug nut wrench (if that’s what it’s even called) and was trying as best he could to pry the fender out away from the tire. No luck. I asked if he needed a crowbar and he said, “Yeah, do you have one?” I said, “No, but I can ask someone.” I went inside the store and asked the store clerk. No crowbar. I asked a woman standing outside the door on the other side of the store. No crowbar. I asked a construction guy who’d just pulled up in his truck. No crowbar. Well, shit!
There’s got to be a crowbar around here somewhere! I stood there and surveyed the neighboring establishments. Hey, there’s a quick lube place! That’s automotive. They should have a crowbar, right? Oh wait, look! They sell tires, too! Yeah, that’s my best option, I thought as I speed walked/semi-jogged toward it. I went into the bay area because no one was at the desk and I shout, “Hello?” A nice young man with the majority of the upper part of his body inside an engine exclaimed, “Yeah, come on in!” While he was pouring oil into the vehicle I asked if he had a crowbar. He didn’t know so asked the guy working on a car in the next stall, also full-body inside it. He said something I didn’t hear, but the first guy did and he went into their lil office and came out with a crowbar! SALVATION!
As quickly as I could move, I got back to Redi Mart and handed the jaws of life to the boys’ dad who was still trying feverishly to get the fender loosed from the tire. It took quite a bit of prying and pulling with the crowbar, but the fender’s grip of the tire had been released enough that I could at least drive the big rig safely home. As the boys’ dad pulled the trailer away from the Redi Mart entrance for me (which took quite a bit of drive forward a lil bit, and then drive in reverse a little bit), I saw the tar that bled from the trailer and onto their lot. Haha! You’ll always remember the white-haired lady that got a trailer stuck, won’t you?!
Alright! Let’s get this big rig back home—where it’s safe for Vonda.
But, wait. There’s more!
At that point, our new refrigerator delivery was in Frankfort and just five stops away. Since Frankfort is 30 minutes from our house, and five more stops would surely take them at least a couple more hours, I went to Wendy’s to get myself some lunch and get something for Amber, too. Even though I wasn’t dropping Hunter off with her, I’d planned on taking her something to eat, so I wanted to complete that good deed. I didn’t even attempt to use the drive-thru window. Nope! I parked in their lot beside another big truck pulling a trailer, making sure I had a clear, straight exit strategy.
I asked Amber to text me her work address and the GPS led me to her building. She said she was “on the side,” whatever that meant. Not being sure that their entrance went all the way around their building, I parked in a large gravel lot across the street where several tractor trailers were parked. Seemed safe and I knew I’d have plenty of room to turn around.
I start eating my lunch while I wait for Amber to come out and within a couple minutes a big, red semi-truck pulls up behind me. I didn’t know what he was doing and sure didn’t want to be in his way so I drove out of the lot. But, where can I turn around now? Oh, look! There’s the high school. They have a large parking lot and plenty of space to turn this rig around (not quite 40 acres though—or, maybe it was). So that’s what I did—while Amber was looking for me where I’d told her I would be—in the gravel lot full of tractor trailers.
It took me a couple minutes to get back to her building and while I was getting closer, I noticed a car pull in and it appeared to drive around the back of the building. Voila! I can drive all the way around! And, that’s what I was doing when I realized I missed the place where I should’ve turned left (heading out of the lot to main road) and ended up in the dead end of the parking lot. Yeah. This is my life!! SHIT!
By this point, Amber had walked around the entire building and finally spotted where I was while we talked on the phone, “Is that you in that big…” she asked. “YEAH! That’s me,” I said.
I had no choice this time. It was up to me to maneuver this big rig out of its latest predicament. Slowly, and very very carefully, I backed up a little bit using all the mirrors at my disposal. The trailer did not go the direction I needed to free myself from this situation. Let’s turn the steering wheel the opposite direction, press gas, okay, that’s better. Nope, too far! I’m getting too close to those parked cars. Turn the steering wheel the other way. Give it just a little bit of gas. Okay, that’s better. Keep going straight. Trailer turns. Not that way! Turn the steering wheel the other direction. Lil bit of gas. Okay, we’re closer! I did this for 75-100 more times, with about 15 onlookers enjoying the lovely weather on their lunch break taking in all the excitement! Finally, I got to the point where I knew I could drive out of the parking lot. Even though I might have to run over a parking brick thingy. Screw it! This is a 4-wheel drive! But, I made it out of there without hitting the brick thingy. Free at last!
I parked my rig, shut off the engine and visited with Amber for a few minutes, regaling her with the leaking tar saga with her. She gets it. Nothing is easy for either of us! We want to do one thing and it ends up requiring that 57 other things be done or remedied just to get that one blessed thing done!
I hugged Amber, told her I loved her and expressed how much I appreciated Hunter’s help, then headed home. She texted, “Let me know when you’re home,” and I responded with a heart.
At long last, I pulled into our driveway. Home sweet home.
I went into the house and…WHAT?! Wait! I texted Amber, “Dammit!! I forgot to give you your eggs! Son of a…!!!” Amber responded, “I left my water bottle in the bathroom.” She’s definitely my kid!
Par for the course. Why do things have to be so hard?!
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