attack_laurel (attack_laurel) wrote,
attack_laurel
attack_laurel

Tales of the farm

Bob will be tremendously gratified at the people who were happy that I did not kill him this weekend.

 

Okay, so we have this old kerosene tank on the property, right?  And we hauled it over by the woodshed so it was out of the way, you know?

Well, Bob had plans.  Sadly, these plans involved me, an automatic transmission truck, and long straps, since the tank was way too heavy to lift by himself.

For reference, the tank was invisible under the honeysuckle sort of overgrown, and next to this:


...which is an old truck bed that was made into a trailer by the previous owner.  This picture was taken a couple of years ago, and the whole area is even more overgrown now.

Bob managed to chop his way through to the tank, but couldn't move it.

This was about the time he had the suicidal bright idea that involved me.  He told me to get in the truck, he'd tie straps around the tank, and I'd pull it to freedom.  Simple right?

Idea Flaw #1:  I am somewhat inexperienced with the automatic transmission in the truck, and not very good with the whole "move gently and slowly" thing.

Idea Flaw #2:  I am too short to see over the hood of the truck, and the tank was invisible (until it reared up; more on that in a second).

Idea Flaw #3:  It's me he's trusting to do this.  I came by my nickname "Angel of Death" because I am dangerously clumsy (and not in a cute fake Bella from "Twilight" kind of way, but a "feed my allergic friend raw onions by accident and almost cause her to choke to death" way).

So.  I tried, I really did.  But the damn truck did nothing nothing nothing vrrrrrroooOOOOOMM HOLY COW, I'M KNOCKING BOB OVER OMG.  In more detail, I tried to pull it gently, and the entire damn thing reared up, jumped forward, and caught Bob, who went down, yelling "stop!".  Unused as I am to automatics, I pulled my foot off the accelerator.

Fuckin' thing kept moving.  Which was when I stabbed the brake.  !#$^%%$^!$^$!^$!****.

He was okay - he fell over because it caught his foot, and falling over seemed preferable to broken bones.  But the second time the truck jumped on me, I freaked out, told him to do it, and went and cried in the bedroom.

But everything was okay - except for the fact that the kerosene tank is still sort of standing where I left it.  I don't care; damn thing can sit there until someone other than me is willing to help Bob move it.

I'll be avoiding helping him with any projects that involve possible major bodily harm until I get survivor benefits.


Just kidding.  I still need to insure him against "accidental kerosene tank squashing".  Once I've got that, we'll be all set.



The woodshop, next to the tank - we had a sudden case of cows the day this picture was taken (JUne 2007, I think), but it passed without incident.

 

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