Body movin’.

Just got back from an insane day at the car site, removing the body from the frame. The short version: it was a long day, and involved a lot of heavy lifting and not a small measure of engineering wit-and-ego battles, with all the attendant stress and fear of injury that goes along with devising (and agreeing upon, and communicating to a dozen people) a plan for lifting a 1,000-pound unwieldy piece of metal 6 feet in the air and translating it 17 feet, with less than the right amount of proper material, &c. &c. Too many engineers, perhaps, and not enough brawn (or cinderblocks/tires/whatever you like to prop up your car body with).
In the end, the chassis was carted away, the police (called by the neighbors) came and went with good humor, the body was moved back into its parking spot, and everyone went home unscathed and relieved and in good spirits. One big hump is over with, people. Now we just gotta make it float…

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2 thoughts on “Body movin’.

  1. Police? As in uniforms and citation forms? Neighbors at source?
    Tell Scottoway to get a new address.
    PS: IF there is ANY possiblity the screamed frequency of any form of the word “FireTruck!” may have caused the neighbors to touch tone to their local constabulary … any at all … then …
    Let this be a word to the wise: firetrucks aside, contraction — an invention of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries — doesn’t fly in “polite” society.
    Signed,
    Your Friendly Former Aprostrophizer,

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