Sunday, June 14, 2015

A Day In The Life - The Water Tank

Three hundred dollars, knocked down to two hundred seventy five dollars.  A steal for a 1550 gallon water tank, right?  Washington State (The Evergreen State, The Rainy State, all that business) is going to be in a drought this year.  The governor has even declared a state of emergency (in May) so this must be big.

Now I'm not a prepper by any means (I can't even think beyond dinner tonight let alone plan for the apocalypse later) but I did tell The Guy I Let Live With Me that he could peruse the purchase of a water reservoir in case the well goes dry.

He was hot on the tail of this job.  His ban from Craigslist had been lifted.  The glorious angels would sing again.

He did find a tank:  $300 fairly local (15 minute drive).  Dickered down to $275.  Now we just had to get the thing.

At noon, on a 91 degree day (seriously, in JUNE?), we set off for the bank to get the cash and pick up a teenager to help (our own teenager - lucky for her - had to work).  The three of us are on our way to pick this thing up.

And up it was.  The main road to get this thing is windy enough with four 45 degree turns all on its own.  The road to the house was gravel, pitted, windy and UP.  At this point The Guy I Let Live With Me mentions, "The truck's running hot."

"What do you mean by hot?" I inquire.

"Like, it's in the red," was his response.

Reds never good.  Red on the safety of the handgun means blood, so red is bad.  Bad bad.  At this point we can both smell antifreeze.  The heater gets kicked into high gear and prayers get said.  Little bells are chiming in my head.

We are still going up, hoping no one is coming down.  The teenager in the back is blissfully unaware.
We get to the top and find this guys house.  He leads us to the tank.  Now, especially for two photographers, there are no pictures of this thing.  We were both in shock.  Yup, it was 1550 gallons.  And huge.  We knew it was 87" across and 52" tall, but that doesn't mean much until you see the thing.  And in desperate need of a pressure washer.  Okay, empty the remaining water and tip the thing on it's side to roll it to the truck.  It's only 200 pounds and it rolls really easy, so this wasn't an obstacle.  Our one concession was that it didn't roll down the incline Indiana Jones Rolling Rock style.  We stopped it with a crowbar and a piece of old carpeting.

Now to get it up the pallet ramp and into the bed of the truck, which, by this time, has cooled down thanks to the heater running full force and heating the cab of the truck up to 103 degrees. Roll that bad boy up the pallet and into the bed.

Which it did remarkable easy.  So easy that when it hit the back of the cab, a fine tinkering crashing sound occurred.  We all looked at each other and pause.  You could hear the crickets chirping.

"Back window," I finally said.

Sure enough, the right panel of the rear window was in little teeny tiny tinted pieces with the "Farm Exempt" tab hanging from a piece of tape still attached to the glass.

Strike Two.

The Hubs is hanging his head and in shock.  We are all sweating profusely.  The seller is watching his sale tick away.

The Hubs gets over his window, steps back and says, "Well it's in."

Yeah all crooked because the wheel well distance is only 49 inches and the width of the thing is 52 inches.  The Hubs says, "Let's cinch it up."

The warning bells are banging a wee bit louder in my head now.  This thing is in the back of the overheating, broken-windowed truck, cock-eyed crooked and at least 100 feet off the ground (actually ten feet, but it's my story).

The Hubs and the Teenager get the tie downs out.  One tie down won't make it all the way across.

Strike Three.  The bells are banging so loud now I can't hear anything else.

The Seller says, "Well, tie the two together."  Um yeah, making only one to hold this hot, crooked mess.  Right.

My arms go across chest and I look at The Guy Who Might Still Be Living With Me.

He's smart enough to read my body language.

"You're saying no," he says.

You are a damn smart guy.

He looks at the Seller.  "She's saying no."

I find my voice, "Lets just say I will not ride home with you if that's in the back of the truck."  I look at the Teenager, "If this was you, would you try this?"

"Yeah," he smiles.

"Get it out of my truck," I demand.

Short story long, it was pretty easy to unload.

The window cost $271 to replace.  We paid the Teenager $20 for his troubles (although, technically, he should have paid US).  It will cost $300 to replace the water pump on the truck.  And, six days later The Guy Who Still Lives With Me found a brand new tank online for $589.

By the time the freight was split between three deliveries, to have it driven to our house was only $37.50.


Now to figure out how to conceal it.

2 comments:

  1. I'm so sorry for the day you had, but you made it into a hilarious story! I giggled through the whole thing. Thanks for sharing on the Homestead Blog Hop!

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  2. That sounds exactly like when we went to get a kids playhouse for a chicken coop...but when we got there we had to dissassemble it and the cousin that came to help was drunk. *ahhh...good times! lol You do tell a great story...and you found an even bigger and better one, so is that a win?

    Thanks for sharing your post with Green Thumb Thursday. I hope you'll join us again this week!

    ~Lisa

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