The weekend was … what? Action packed? I’ll fill in weekend details another time. Time being, I need to tell you about the RV delivery. You know that NPR show,”Fiasco”? One more incident with this RV delivery, and we would have qualified.
We agree to meet RV Delivery Guy by the spring at Exit 30 at 11am. He was leaving at 8. We arrive at the tap at five-to-eleven, and he’s already been there an hour. “No traffic. Sweet drive. No prob at all. No prob.” Delivery Guy is super nice (like everyone at the dealership) and agreeable to anything even moderately sane. Little does he know, his kind demeanor has doomed him.
I am once again shocked at the size of the RV. It’s enormous. I look at it and think, “Things this big should not roll.” The RV is blue and white and it has that fifth-wheel nose, and it reminds me of a Blue Whale. “I bet that’s how big a Blue Whale is,” I think to myself. “Only without a bed in its nose.” We start out over the mountain roads, up and down, past waterfalls, through valleys, and we manage to get the thing over hill and over dale without incident. We’re home.
The honeymoon is over.
I explain that I would like him to pull it in nose first, because I want the door on the right side. He’ll have to do a two-hundred-point turn to get his truck out, but it should work. In theory. “Unless you want to drive out through that swamp on the left! Ha, ha, ha!” He gets the RV in nicely, unhitches, and begins the turn-of-many-points. The RV isn’t leveled yet, so it’s sort of listing to the left side … a whale beached at the edge of our swamp.
Ten minutes later, Delivery Guy is still cutting little pie shaped pieces in the dirt, and going nowhere fast. It is at this point that we add Villager #1, a friend from next door.
Delivery Guy leans out and asks us, “Hey, this is a pretty tough truck. You think I could get through the few feet of that swamp?” We walk out on it. “Seems dry enough. We’re not sinking at all.” Well, we’re also not a 3/4 ton pickup truck. He pulls backwards and to the left. We hold our breath. He totally buries it. One side up, one side down. Villager #1 looks at me dryly. “Get the tractor?” “Yeah, get the tractor,” I drone. It is at this point that we add Villager #2.
Mere seconds later, the big red 1950s tractor chugs around the front of the old house. Villager #1 and Villager #2 run a chain from the tractor to the truck. Delivery Guy gets back in the truck. It is at this point that we add Villagers #3 and Junior Villager #4, friends from across the street. #2 revs the tractor, they gain a little traction … and the tractor wheels start to spin. Brand new soft soil. Just had that side of the property leveled. Villager #2 shouts, “Let’s try ‘er again!” The tractor lurches, makes a horrible noise, gets stuck in gear, and is frozen.
It is at this point that we really attract the attention of Villagers #5 through 12 … the volunteer fire department has set up down the road on the corner for their “put money in the boot” thing. They’re laughing, but I don’t much care because they’re the ones standing there in 80 degree heat wearing bright yellow slickers, stopping traffic, and begging for change with an old rubber boot.
About 30 yards away, Villager #13’s mother has set up a yard sale. They’re watching, but seem more horrified than anything else. To review – We now have the beached whale, the swamped truck, and the frozen tractor all sitting near the front of our property. Villager #14 comes ambling over, leaving the store unattended – one eye on the store and one eye on the muddy truck. “Hell, this is the biggest thing to happen in this town since that car hit your house a few years back!” I tell him that if one more vehicle gets stuck in my driveway, I’m tossing a match at the house, getting in the van, and driving as far away as I possibly can get.
Villager #13 brings over a huge platter or watermelon and starts passing it out to everyone. Villager #3 goes over and buys a lamp.
At this point, we’re calling tow trucks … with winches. The local guy is in Plattsburgh. It’ll be a few hours. Then, lo and behold, a miracle happens. Villager #15 drove by, saw we were having trouble, and unlike our fire department audience, lifted a finger to help. #15 told his neighbor Villager #16 to get his truck out there, we needed help. And #16’s truck is some kind of tow truck. It’s the kind of truck that can pick up a truck.
He winches the pickup onto the bed, and pulls it right out. The license plate assembly sticks in the mud and someone goes to get it. Their shoe comes off, stuck in the muck. Delivery Guy and I level the RV. We all walk over to the store parking lot. Delivery Guy has to get going. Villager #14 comes out of the store – he’s made him a plate of hotdogs for the road.
And we all stand in the parking lot and laugh for a while. Delivery Guy hoses the mud off his truck.
“Well, this should make for good talk ’til at least Winter.”
“Sure passed the afternoon, didn’t it?”
“Too bad Cranky Ol’ #17 wasn’t here to see it.”
“Eh. He’s just an old gossip. Never has anything nice to say.”
“Old Man #18 sure would have loved it though.”
And that’s how we roll in our little villiage in the back corner of the Adirondacks.