Smokey Joe and the Great Move of '05

So I've been up to a lot for a change. Over the past couple of weeks, Michelle and I moved into our new house. If you've ever read her blog, you already know this. Anyway, the move went well -- a fact I owe entirely to the awesomeness of my friends. Fear not....If I move again, I think I'm going to hire movers.

There were two real stars of the day. Highest honors go to Savory, a professional mover for over 10 years in a previous life. We brought things to him, and he made them disappear in the truck. I'm still not sure how he managed to get 90% of our stuff over here in one trip. It's a damn good thing we did though...which brings me to the second hero of moving day '05: Smokey Joe.

Smokey Joe is not a person, but a marvel of modern engineering. He epitomizes everything the International truck company and U-Haul are looking for in a quality vehicle. Note that almost everyone has already heard this story ad infinitum, because I think it's so damn funny. My recounting it here is mainly for posterity, so I'll remember it in the future, and because I know Warren will get a kick out of it. This is Smokey Joe's story.

I arrived at the U-Haul place 5 miles from my house at 7AM, a solid half hour before they "opened." I was the fifth person in line. Apparently, the weekend we decided to move is one of the busiest of the year for U-Haul, what with the kiddies going back to school and such. Anyway, after worrying a little about whether or not I'd actually get a truck, watching one guy not get a truck and go completely ballistic, and discovering that U-Haul will let you take a truck with a manual transmission whether you know how to drive it or not, it was my turn to get my vehicle.

The guy helping me wandered around for a while. At one point he informed me that he was "having a little trouble finding the keys." I guess he got over that, becuase a short while later he told me they needed to charge the battery. Things are not going well. He gave me my appliance dolly and showed me my truck. Incidentally, I'd already figured out which truck was mine by looking at the parking lot, finding the absolute worst one, and knowing that they'd give it to me. Suprise suprise, I was right.

I walked out to the truck to find two mechanics working on it. It was hooked up to another running truck, I presume to charge the battery. After much yelling and cursing, they got it started. The whole thing imediately vanished in a cloud of white smoke. I asked the mechanic who looked like he was in charge if it was going to make it. His response: "Smokey Joe? Oh yeah, he'll get you where you need to go."

I climbed aboard my new chariot. A 1988 International 26 foot Box Truck with at least 197,000 miles on it. After several minutes of careful examination, I gave up on trying to find the parking brake release. I went back to ask mechanic-guy, and he showed me where it was. Fantastic. I'm ready go go. As I pulled away, mechanic-guy yells up to me, "Oh yeah! That ricketty muthafucka' gonna slip out of second gear on you!" Those were his exact words. He told me this as I was shifting into second. He wasn't lying, either. You could almost get the shifter all the way into third gear just by giving it too much gas in second. Assuming you could get it into second at all.

After getting a good feel for Smokey Joe's three foot long shifter and getting used to the space between gears being larger than the car that I drive on a regular basis, I was on my way. There was a gigantic cloud of white smoke behind me for a good quarter of a mile as I meandered down route 50 at about 40 mph (which felt like breaking the sound barrier in this P.O.S.). Smokey Joe is truly a force to be reckoned with. I parked it in front of the townhouse for about five seconds with the motor running. Two mintutes later, the smoke alarms were going off inside my house. This thing has problems.

After moving the first load and having lunch, I piled my workforce into the back of good ol' Smokey Joe, Mexican Style, to head back to the house to get the rest. Shockingly enough, Joe was done. Wouldn't start. Didn't even crank. We finished the move with cars and my brother-in-law's pickup. Later that day, a mechanic came out and tried to revive Joe. No dice. He was towed back to Uhaul on Monday morning. And promptly put back into service, I might add. I've already seen him twice since that fateful weekend.

So why was Smokey Joe one of the heros of the day? Well, since he decided to break down "half way" through my move, I didn't pay a dime for him. Not for the truck, the gas, the mileage, the dolly, or the furniture pads. Free. Nada. Gratis. Saved me at least a hundred bucks. Thanks, Joe.

Now that I've bored you all in writing with the same story I've told over and over, I'll move on to the rest of what's been going on. I was in Rochester, NY last weekend for an old friend's wedding. I made some new friends and drank a lot of gin. I also stayed at a hotel which now has the distcintcion of employing an Iron Chef winning chef. Good stuff. Though I don't recommend drinking copious amounts of gin until 3AM, only to get up at 7 and drive 400 miles.

So we're all moved in now, except for one bed which is still at my in-laws' house. Things are coming together faster than I expected them to. The pool table is here, the furniture is placed, and most of the boxes are unpacked, broken down, and on to their next move with other friends. I mowed my lawn today. As much as I'm sure I'll hate doing it eventually, it was pretty cool to know I was doing it for myself for once, and not for a parent or neighbor. We'll see how much I like this place once I start making payments on it, though.

This weekend brings Dewey Beach, late night/early morning work fun, margaritas, and the start of another Hokie Football season. All subjects worthy of Blog updates. Don't hold your breath, though.

I don't really know what to say.

I was driving to work this morning and I saw a girl driving a jeep. I've seen a lot of girls driving jeeps lately. My first thought when I saw her was of a friend of mine at work who also drives a jeep. Maybe he had some insight into why so many girls were driving them.

He died very unexpectedly last night, at the age of 23. He was a friend and certainly one of the best people I've worked with here. I regret not spending more time getting to know him away from work. Everyone around here is really going to miss him.