Ambition and Glory

Ambition got the best of me when  I rented a lift to paint the east two story  side of my Dad's house.  I figured a day to wash and prep. A day to dry and a day to paint. Without the hassle of running up and down ladders and moving them, I could get up in that bucket with all my supplied and knock the job out.

I told the guy at the equipment rental company, “I need a lift so I can get 22 feet high.”  A little eight grade math had given me this number.

“Well, then you need a 40 foot lift.”   

I hesitated about a machine so large. I’ve operated larger, but never on my own. “No worries we’ll give you a lesson before you take it.” I noticed all the instructional decals stuck to the side of the machine were half torn away or faded. I expected a hands-on tutorial.  Instead, I got a verbal machine gun-style barrage of instructions fired in brief bare-bones spurts. On-off switch. These levers operate the legs. Level it. These operate the bucket. Remove these pins before you raise the lift. That will be $550.”  He handed me a safety harness large enough for a 450 pound man.

This monster of a beast menacingly followed me home. Six long miles.  I hoped my bumper and hitch were not tearing away from my Jeep's body.  Parked in the back yard it began to sink into the ground. Rain and moles do not make for a hard packed footing. After making two calls back to the rental company for clarifications on how to lower the legs and raise the bucket I was golden and spent an hour getting comfortable with the controls.  Soon I discovered  I couldn’t reach the lower half of the building. Maybe if I moved the lift into a different position further from the wall. But I didn’t want to back the Jeep up to the tongue and fool around with reattaching the hitch. Nor did I want to back the monster up.  I settled for the highest and the middle part of the building. Washing wasn’t going to be the problem. Painting would be. I would have to use an extension bar.

I ran around the neighborhood collecting ladders and rigged scaffolding to paint the lower half. Still I would have to move the platform bridge between the ladders as I have only one set of jacks.

And then it rained. And rained the following day and the forecast predicted more rain through the following Tuesday. And the lift sank further into the ground. Then a revised forecast for Friday. Sunny and unseasonably warm. That morning I watched dew dry. It’s worse than watching paint dry. Finally, I jumped in the lift about 10:30am and painted continuously until 5:30pm. The forecast was for rain on Saturday so I kept at it, non-stop, to finish all but the spots where the ladders rested against the wall.

Dead tired I went to my forty high school reunion and watched my class mates show up soaked. Damn rain.

This morning everything on my body was sore from bending, squatting, reaching all day. I hooked the lift up to the Jeep for the return trip.  I was nervous about this. Would my Jeep, even in four wheel drive, going to have the muscle to drag the load out of the saturated yard?  I was concerned about backing it up too, but Dad relented to let me take it across the front yard staying away from the septic drain field.  

I backed the Jeep to the tongue and lowered it on the ball. Locked in place. Released brake. Slowly inched forward. I got traction, gained a little momentum and kept on going. Like driving in snow.  I went around the perimeter of the yard. Slipped between the weiglia and spruce tree, past the lilacs and by the hornet nest.  I didn’t stop until I hit the top of the hill on the road by the school house. The grip on the steering wheel deadly. My foot was shaking on the gas pedal. God, I had not been that nervous about something since I had to make a presentation in seventh grade. 

Now all seemed to be good. Slowly driving into town, again the machine lurking behind me. On West Avenue I was two lights and one left turn from the rental company when I came through an intersection with a dip and off came the lift. Holy shit.

What went through my brain at that very moment was reality. I was being chased down the road by a run away lift and it was going to shove itself up the rear end of my Jeep.  The thing wasn’t stopping nor was I. I didn’t want it crashing into me or anything else. I use the Jeep as a barrier.  I kept the monster behind me and tried to keep the Jeep just ahead of it. We kept rolling.  As nervous as I was hauling it out of the yard, I was not nervous about this situation. As long as a cop didn’t come by.  Did I mention no trailer lights?  It finally came to rest along the side of the road where traffic could easily pass by.

I got out to assess the damage, expecting to find the rear end of my beloved Jeep smashed in like a soda can. No damage. The lift? Right. Only a tank could destroy this thing. Neither Dad nor I could lift the tongue to my Jeep’s hitch. I went to the rental company. They sent a guy out who lifted the tongue onto the hitch. Ah, to be strong.  He told me to return it to the store. Where did he think I was going?

The end of the story? Somewhere between the backyard and the store was the key.  I found it. Yes, once again, I thanked God.

I don’t know when the last time was that Dad’s house got painted. I’ll remember this time.