Doing a repo on a portable building is one of the more challenging tasks at our portable building business. It’s like Forrest Gump’s box of chocolates; you never know what you’re going to get. (Read: “Adventures in Repo”.) After a difficult start to our trip (Read: “The best laid plans…”), several other deliveries, and an unexpected overnight stay, we had to collect a building in the small town of Coleman. Another delivery driver had been out to the site a week or two beforehand, and had told us that there were cars blocking access to the building, and that it was still full; he said he gave the renters another week to remove their items from the building and move the cars. He was unable to retrieve the building himself, and since we were going to be in the area anyway, it was added to our list.
When we arrived at the site, we had a sudden and painfully clear understanding of why the previous driver had been unable to retrieve the building. It was wedged in between a fence and an old Camaro with less than an inch of clearance in either side.
When my sweetheart went to talk to the matriarch of the family (who greeted him at the door in her pajamas with a blanket covering her ample and unrestrained bosom) she said that she had told the previous driver that if would only take them a few minutes to move their things out of the building, but that the driver had demurred, saying that he would return in a week to give them ample time to move their things. Either the driver was operating under the delusion that they were going to remove their fence and suddenly fix the Camaro (which had weeds growing between its flattened tires and the pavement), or his hasty retreat was due to the extreme difficulty of removing this building from its narrow setting without damage. The latter is entirely more likely.
But, as the saying goes: When city says “Oh, $#&%!” country says “Watch this $#&%!” And my sweetheart is 100% country.
After a mere ten minutes of removing their items from the shed, we were ready to go. My sweetheart expertly backed the trailer up into the narrow opening in front of the building, and cleverly used a series of maneuvers with heavy chains and the trailer’s hydraulics to gently slide it from between the imprisoning chain link and muscle car. Once it was free of the Camaro, he was able to begin carefully loading it, avoiding a gas meter, crepe myrtle, and empty deer feeder all within a few inches of his work. The seventeen year-old young man who was watching all of this slack-jawed, bare-footed, and wearing a “WWF Raw” T-shirt, kept saying, “Dang…. Dang… Dang…” with amazement.
On the plus side, I got a picture of their neighbor’s house that is perfect for Crappy Shack.