On Saturday, Marc and I went to the Penske Turck rental to pick up the truck that our friend Doug would be using to move out of Illinois. I've never driven a big truck and so Marc offered to. But since it wasn't that large, I decided I could handle it. And I did fine...except for one problem. Big trucks have really slippery floors!
Seriously, the floor on these Penske moving trucks is all plastic and some Helpful Penske Employee used about 4 bottles of Armor-All to shine it all up. Add to the slickness the fact that I was wearing my super-cool but low-on-the-traction faux-bowling shoes and you have a recipe for disaster (as opposed to a recipe for pie, which is yummy).
When I first pulled myself up into the truck, I put my feet down and went sliding across the cockpit. I was like Bambi learning to walk in there. I eventually learned to just keep my feet elevated and only touch pedal.
No wonder you have to have special licenses to drive big trucks. Dang.
The moving adventures didn't end there. On Monday, when loading up the Slick Penske Truck, I was returning back to the house from carrying out a load when I noticed a 6 or 7-year-old boy riding his bike down the sidewalk. His eyes caught mine and he yelled, "Pooh-pooh head!"
I was gonna run him over with the Penske truck, but I figgered that by the time I got my footing in there, he'd be long gone.
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