Had a long weekend of hauling rusty junk.
Saturday, I hauled a 05 Cateye CCSB LLY from Montrose to Detroit to help out a friend of one of my grandsons. While in Detroit they returned the favor and help me load up an 8' bed for my plow truck build.
Sunday, I drove three hours to the other side of the state for a cab for the plow truck, only to have the seller text me 10 minutes before arriving at his place that he couldn't find the title. Mind you at 9am when I got on the road, he said he had it. The 150 miles later he didn't. And yes, I know there are work arounds for that, but I just went through all that with a SxS this spring. Got enough static from my lovely bride, that it just isn't worth the hassle. So, I came home empty handed.
Then yesterday I hauled a 1989 SCSB 2WD Silverado out of Flint.
Kinda of a bad deal I wish I wasn't involved in. My wife's right hand at work owns the truck. Lovely lady stuck in a tough spot. This truck had belonged to her husband. He left her for another lady. Took her car. She knew he was drinking and driving. Signed her car over to him, in return for this truck.
He filed for divorce, life moved on. Truck just sat sinking into the ground. Then he has a motorcycle accident three months before the divorce is final. Busted his head open on a curb. He's alive, but he'll never regain consciousness. The courts halt the divorce. She has to remain married to him so someone can make decisions for him.
She's struggling with still being married to him, not able to move on etc etc. That lovely bride of mine offers to help by at least getting this junk hauled out of her driveway, get it running and sold. So on a sunny Monday, I leave work at half day to go get it.
When I get there, she informs me the keys he gave her for it don't fit it.
Now I'm pissed. At him. Pretty obvious he was just trying to keep it tucked away here, in her way. He always said he was going to restore it blah blah blah. Just stringing her along.
Screw it. I pop the steering wheel off, get the lock tumbler out of it toss a battery and some gas in it and away we go.
He'll never wake up to know his shit is gone, but whatever. His shit is gone.
Well, except for the dog he left living in the back yard. But that's another story.
(Sorry for the long post, LOL.)
