It takes a village

by Katie on January 11, 2013

I mentioned before that seven of our family members (counting ourselves) have contributed their talents to furnishing and decorating my favorite room in the house. This did not include two sets of friends who have lavishly supplied us with their retired baby gear and clothing. It also does not include one very generous hay truck driver who was on the other end of my dad’s assigned task.

Hey, they say it takes a village. We’re turning that village into the southwestern United States.

My parents had two family rocking chairs in their house they offered to my sister and I. Mostly for the sentimental factor, I really wanted to take them up on one. The dilemma? They live 1247 miles away. A completely impractical driving distance for the length of visits any of us are able to make. And a rocking chair isn’t really something you can pack in a carry-on for flying.

This situation had me thinking our kid would be five before this chair ever made it to our house. Then one day, I got to thinking how we load three hay trucks nearly every week for a trucking company just outside of Austin. Guys we’ve seen weekly for the past two years, and who pick up loads all over the great state of Texas to get them close enough to Phoenix to come get hay. And my parents live 45 minutes away from one of the largest shipping ports in the country. You can see where the light bulb eventually went off here.

So I asked Brandon if any of those guys ever loaded in Houston to make a run out our way. Indeed, as I suspected, they did.

But, of course, in the normal activity of selling and loading hay, the topic of rocking chairs continued to slip Brandon’s mind when talking to any of them. One day, we happened to be in the truck together when our favorite driver called to let us know he’d be at our barns in a couple days.

…After picking up his load in — Houston — the next morning.

Since I overheard all this, I was able to prompt Brandon to ask about rocking chair hauling. Being the good Texan he is, he agreed. So I called my dad at 6pm Texas time, asked what he had going on at 6am the next day, and the resulting possibility of him driving my rocking chair to a loading yard in Houston to meet a truck driver. And being the good Texan he is as well, he also agreed.

So we put the two in touch, and the rest is history.

Well, there is one minor detail. Apparently when they met up, the driver realized he didn’t have any extra straps with which to secure my chair to his trailer. The only option was to wrangle it into his sleeper cab. Which my dad informed me afterward was not an easy task. I was concerned, since the poor guy had to sleep back there for two nights before arriving at our barn. In my dad’s words:  “It’s a good thing he’s a little ol’ guy.”

Two days later, Brandon confirmed it was just as difficult to get the chair out of the sleeper cab as it must have been to get it in. And he had in fact slept with a giant rocking chair for two nights.

Bless him. And his non-stereotypical-truck-driver frame size.



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