Our Misadventures at Round Top part 3: my box truck debacle

Can you see the joy on my face!

When I first started making plans to spend a few days at Round Top, shopping for clients and "picking" for our So. Bell & Co. inventory, I decided a box truck was exactly what I needed. They are easier to handle than a trailer and I would have more room for larger treasures! And I mean how much fun would it be to toodle across the state in a box truck? I had all but named it in my head. I originally planned to rent one from Penske but fate intervened. A couple of weeks before my trip, during a commercial build consultation I mentioned my upcoming excursion to the client. This particular project is a retail flooring center that will have a modern industrial theme. I told the owner that the brick wall we were installing as the focal point of the store would look amazing if we hung a huge reclaimed skyscraper window right in the center of it. Picture lots of heart eye emojis right here. I told him if I decided to rent a box truck for my trip I would find us one. To which he replied: “I have a box truck. Are you a good driver?” (You see where this is headed right.) Well heck yea! I’m a great driver! Now let me add that this is a brand new project with a brand new commercial client. And he just up and offers to let me borrow a box truck. So clearly this is meant to be. I called my hubby and announced, “God just gave me a box truck!”

 I will not even bore you with all the details I put into getting Mr. Churchill ready (yes I named him), but let’s just say it included: lemon essential oils, fluffy blankets, the world's cutest gingham wheelie cooler, and “mostly” healthy snacks (I still have a weakness for lik-m-aids on road trips which are basically like nuclear bombs for your innards and I feel ashamed when I eat them). And we were off! First thought upon departure- This thing is Barry White smooth to drive. I quickly master backing up and become so confident that I spend a big part of the trip rolling down the window and yelling out “Like A Boss!” as I back up. Nope, not kidding. And for the next five days Mr. Churchill and I are like twins that were separated at birth. That is, until it was time to head home. Oy vey.

This is the "limb".

On the final afternoon I headed to go pick up the last of my purchases from vendors.  Because it was Sunday the traffic had substantially increased. There is basically only one road that leads through all of Warrenton and Round Top and everyone was trying to get out. There were also clusters of jaywalking junkers all over the place. I missed my turn so I pulled in front of a small store to turn around. I initially tried backing out but NO ONE would let me. I felt like all the little skinny cars were bullying me and my big fat truck. I was a tad overwhelmed and panicky because Blaire (my shopping buddy) was ahead of me and I was not sure where she had gone. I decide to start what basically amounted to a 15 point turn in this tiny parking lot so that I could just pull straight out. Finally I was facing the right direction and there was just enough of a lull in traffic for me to go. Halleluiah. I began to move forward when all of a sudden I heard this loud ear piercing screech above my head (like the heavens were opening up).  Freaking out I stop immediately and look around. I see nothing unusual but a few pedestrians looking at me like I am crazy… and maybe smiling? Hmmm… they don’t seem alarmed. So I give it some more gas and I feel like I am hitting an invisible wall, and now the sound above me is so loud that I basically panic and have the sudden desperate need to flee whatever’s causing it. (Yes, I know, wrong instinct.  But the fight or flight response took a hard right at flight.) I give it more gas and whoa Nelly, the noise.  People are now watching me and panic takes over my brain. What is happening? Why are they staring? Is that man recording me!? Look! There’s a break in traffic, run Brandy run! Pedal to the metal I lunge forward and break fee and fly off the curb. I look in the rearview mirror and see a hurricane of leaves and branches raining down everywhere. WTH? Totally shaking, I am racking my brain trying to figure out what the  %$!@#  just happened. And, well if you have not guessed yet, I had apparently managed to wedge myself under a very VERY  large low lying limb. The trucks canopy had blocked it from my view.

When I finally found my way back to the field where Blaire was parked I was just a hot mess. But for the record, I never cried. However I had no idea what kind of damage I had done to my borrowed box truck.  So I crawled onto the hood and shimmied up the front to evaluate the damage. One mystery solved- the whistling sound I was hearing on my way back to the field was coming from the hole I smashed into the front. So other than the scraped paint, scratches, and craters the rest of it was not too bad, well except that the roof was now shaped like a taco shell. Still not crying. I just need to get this thing home. And I needed duct tape.

To sum up the story… the last dealer I needed to visit for a table was nothing short of an angel. After she humbly shared her own truck disaster that happened in Paris she hugged me and gave me a roll of duct tape to patch the top. Jessica is my friend forever now. (Please go visit her, her taste is exquisite. Direct from France, Sacred Heart Antiques in Round Top.) So Blaire and I climbed on top of the cab in the middle of the parking lot, duct tape in hand and start patching so I could get home. I looked at her as we were teetering precariously on the hood and said “A true friend helps you tape up your box truck”.

A friend in need...

So the end of my tale is this... I made my delivery to Uvalde and made it back to Midland where I drove immediately to an auto body shop. A week later when I returned it to the store owner, he was beyond gracious. AND they now have a great reason to laugh at me. I still have plans to buy my own box truck next year. I will name him Mr. Carnegie. And we will keep an eye out for low hanging trees.

                                                                                                  Big Southern Hugs,

                                                                                                                         - BB