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OK. So, I'm helping a buddy harvest a large (200+) outdoor farm. We are about half way through, using a Trim Pro and the damn thing breaks down. No, this is not a rant about Trim Pro - they are the bomb. The person using it before me abused it - it's his fault. He will pay.
But, I call the grow store at about 4 pm. Yes, they have one in stock, and they'll wait till I can get there. We should have a second one anyway, and can get the original repaired in a couple of days. So, off I go. I'm smelling like a Bob Marley wet dream. The guys at the grow store don't care - in fact one of them told me I was making his mouth water. LoL.
So, I open the box to the machine, check to make sure it's all there. It is. Paid for, and on the road back to the trim spot. I get on the freeway and look in my rear view mirror and the box is open, plastic wrapping all flapping around and I think, "Shit, there's paperwork in there that we might need, I don't want it flying out." So, I pull off the road, put on flashers and get out.
I'm trying to figure out a way to get it tight again, and figure, "Fuck it, I'll just put it in the cab with me." I reach over and pick it up, lift it out, try to get it in the cab and it won't fit. Now, I'm a old fart with a bad back so, I'm cussin' and shit and from behind me I hear "Is everything ok?" I almost pissed myself. Standing there with a big grin is a California Highway Patrolman.
Now, you gotta realize, I haven't had more than 6 hours sleep in the last three days. I'm living off of take out pizza, iced vodka and Narco. Unshaven. Sticky and stinky. Prolly had two grams of hash on my hands, clothes and shoes.
So, I said, "The lid is off this thing and I didn't want paper flying out all over the road so I was trying to get it in the cab. But the damn thing won't fit." I set it on the ground between us and rubbed my sore back. He looked at it and said, "Oh, we can get it secure in the back, let me help" and picked it up. He put it in the back, on it's side, put the open lid up against the side of the cargo box and pushed a floor jack I had back there up against it. "There" he says, "that should hold."
The wind shifted. You ever seen a bird dog pick up a scent? It's like they get hit in the face with a shovel or something - that's the look he had. He looked at me with that 'bird-dog-that-just-got-a-scent' look - still grinning. Then he looked at the machine and said, "What IS this thing?" I stammered and shuffled and mumbled something about "machinery for my hobby."
LoL. Hobby. Fuck me. What a stupid thing to say.
He just smiled, nodded and said, "Ok. Well. Listen, drive carefully, ok?" I assured him that I would, and thanked him as he walked back to his car. He gave me a wave as he got in.
Good police officer. Extra donut for you.
Harvest Season in Northern California.
PS: I took a circuitous route back. Stopped a couple of times, doubled back and watched the rear view mirror to make sure I wasn't followed.
~ Auggie ~
OK. So, I'm helping a buddy harvest a large (200+) outdoor farm. We are about half way through, using a Trim Pro and the damn thing breaks down. No, this is not a rant about Trim Pro - they are the bomb. The person using it before me abused it - it's his fault. He will pay.
But, I call the grow store at about 4 pm. Yes, they have one in stock, and they'll wait till I can get there. We should have a second one anyway, and can get the original repaired in a couple of days. So, off I go. I'm smelling like a Bob Marley wet dream. The guys at the grow store don't care - in fact one of them told me I was making his mouth water. LoL.
So, I open the box to the machine, check to make sure it's all there. It is. Paid for, and on the road back to the trim spot. I get on the freeway and look in my rear view mirror and the box is open, plastic wrapping all flapping around and I think, "Shit, there's paperwork in there that we might need, I don't want it flying out." So, I pull off the road, put on flashers and get out.
I'm trying to figure out a way to get it tight again, and figure, "Fuck it, I'll just put it in the cab with me." I reach over and pick it up, lift it out, try to get it in the cab and it won't fit. Now, I'm a old fart with a bad back so, I'm cussin' and shit and from behind me I hear "Is everything ok?" I almost pissed myself. Standing there with a big grin is a California Highway Patrolman.
Now, you gotta realize, I haven't had more than 6 hours sleep in the last three days. I'm living off of take out pizza, iced vodka and Narco. Unshaven. Sticky and stinky. Prolly had two grams of hash on my hands, clothes and shoes.
So, I said, "The lid is off this thing and I didn't want paper flying out all over the road so I was trying to get it in the cab. But the damn thing won't fit." I set it on the ground between us and rubbed my sore back. He looked at it and said, "Oh, we can get it secure in the back, let me help" and picked it up. He put it in the back, on it's side, put the open lid up against the side of the cargo box and pushed a floor jack I had back there up against it. "There" he says, "that should hold."
The wind shifted. You ever seen a bird dog pick up a scent? It's like they get hit in the face with a shovel or something - that's the look he had. He looked at me with that 'bird-dog-that-just-got-a-scent' look - still grinning. Then he looked at the machine and said, "What IS this thing?" I stammered and shuffled and mumbled something about "machinery for my hobby."
LoL. Hobby. Fuck me. What a stupid thing to say.
He just smiled, nodded and said, "Ok. Well. Listen, drive carefully, ok?" I assured him that I would, and thanked him as he walked back to his car. He gave me a wave as he got in.
Good police officer. Extra donut for you.
Harvest Season in Northern California.
PS: I took a circuitous route back. Stopped a couple of times, doubled back and watched the rear view mirror to make sure I wasn't followed.
~ Auggie ~
