Let's shift gears momentarily. And by gears, I mean the kind found on a 14 foot UHaul truck, which is what I drove across the state of New York last Friday.
Unfortunately, this is not Photoshopped. It's the real deal.
When I started to realize that I was a). Not going to find a job by the end of the month and b). Not going to have a place to live by the end of the month, it seemed like a good time to formulate a plan. I basically had one option in this plan: move home temporarily while I look for a job. So, that part was quick and easy, if not a decisive punch to my pride.
But then the logistical nightmare of when/how to move during a time frame in which I've planned to be in several different states over the next few weeks set in. (Please hold your applause for the excellence with which I've made recent decisions.) In the end, renting a truck and moving a week in advance seemed like the best possible option.
On Thursday I got an email from UHaul informing me of my free upgrade to a 14 foot vehicle thanks to a shortage of smaller ones. They thought this was a blessing. I, however, saw this as my eulogy delivered in advance via email. I come from a long line of bad drivers. My road test print out read, "Incapable of making left turns." Seriously. Somehow, I passed. But driving anything larger than a compact car should be on my anti-bucket list.
On Friday morning I arrived at the pickup location to find two moderately sized trucks...and one big kahuna:
Having an overactive dread about this entire situation to begin with, I could only assume that this would be my vehicle/hearse.
But apparently my sense of dread wasn't overactive at all. Because you never really want to arrive at a facility that has an intercom lock system manned indoors from 15 feet away. And you never really want the mailman to be the person who enters the code to allow you in because no one is manning said system.
And once you walk inside, you never really want to see a dimly lit building filled with storage units where your body could easily be stashed and then be led to a small room with no windows. And you never really want to learn that the owner is not on the premises and his whereabouts is unknown and no one there knows how to process a rental.
This was truly one of those "two are better than one" situations, because, if left to my own emotions, I probably would have broke down and cried right then and there over a bright orange hand truck. But because BA was along for the ride we just laughed. A lot. Half because we felt like we were filming an episode of NCIS and half because that's just what happens with friends: you laugh about the things that would otherwise make you cry.
Eventually the owner did show up and after completely psyching me out about having to drive the big truck (I'm sure you can imagine how well this was received) told me that I was indeed the renter of a moderately sized moving machine.
I've never been happier to see a 14 foot vehicle.
He then introduced me to the two trucks and decided to give me the one not named "Bullet Hole."
But before we left the UHaul office I snapped this picture of a quote hanging on the wall, which did a better job summarizing our experience in 5 words than I did in 600:
Amen, UHaul. Amen.