Last night was also a reminder of that…but in a much happier, more adventurous way.
“Could he just wait a few hours and come at daybreak?”
“If you don’t want that hay, we sure can find someone else who does!”
…..”Midnight it is.”
Tera and I volunteered to help however we could, John thought some flashlights might be useful, and we settled in for a late night. And waited.
A call at 11 to see how it was going informed us that the load was two hours away in Tulsa. Hmmm…to sleep or not to sleep? Nah, it wouldn’t be worth it. But at 12:30 he hadn’t quite REACHED Stillwater yet, and another call at 2 revealed he hadn’t LEFT Stillwater.
AND….he was lost. Very lost. The poor guy thought he was going north when he was going south and didn’t know where he was and couldn’t understand why the people he tried to flag down wouldn’t stop and direct him. John spent 30 minutes talking him down to the highway he needed to be on. I think it was about then we realized we’d be pulling an all-nighter. John served up some ice cream and the three of us started to snicker…and then chuckle…and then laugh as we lay on his office floor updating facebook with crazy comments and wondering how in the world this poor guy could make a 5 hour trip into a 10 hour trip and speculating about where the directionally challenged trucker would end up and when. “Enid at 4.” “No…Witchita.” “No…Dallas.” “I think he just keeps pulling over and sleeping…and then acting like he’s on his way.”
As we got word that he was finally getting close we made our way up to the road. Slowly, slowly…..slllloooowwwwllllyyyyy, we watched his headlights crawl up our street. So timidly. So hesitantly. So explanatorily. Doooooowwwwwnnnnnnn thhheeeee hhhiiiiillllllllllllll. Oooooovvvveeeerrrrrr ttttthhhhheeeeee bbbbrrriiiiiddddggggeeeeeee. Paaaaasssstttt tttthhhhhhheeeee neeeiiiiiggghhhhbbbboooorrrssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss. With some roaring and chugging and groaning the monster of a truck with it’s massive, looming load hissed and shuddered to a stop…at 3:37 AM. Precisely.
Ever so slowly, the diminutive driver with a scruffy gray beard and a squinty, scrunchy face climbed down from his cab and ever so slowly he started to undo the strong, wide straps that held the bales in place. Ever so slowly he told us how a 65 year old woman loaded that trailer of hay, and it took her 5 hours to do it.