I've spent so many hours thinking about a sink, and sink base, for my kitchen that I couldn't help but squeal with delight at the arrival of this wonderful piece of 50's history. I know you can't picture this reserved lady squealing with delight over anything, but believe me, I was.
YRC, the trucking company, phoned this afternoon and said my package was in and I could pick it up at their dock. They said I could pick it up anytime between six in the morning to eleven at night, but not to come early afternoon because that was when they were the busiest.
Stephen and I left around 5 p.m. It was pretty dark by the time we turned onto their street. I had the address and assumed a trucking company would be easy to find - YRC lettering and a large building with docks and semi-trucks.
We traveled down a nearly deserted road with a huge landfill straight in front of us and a "STOP dead-end" sign blocking our path. None of the businesses to the right or the left had any kind of business sign. None of them even looked like anyone was around.
Finally, a semi-turned in front of us and drove through a huge parking lot to a long, long, long terminal. It looked to be deserted. There wasn't a sign of a living soul or a truck except for the one that had turned in there and was now disappearing around the building. Dared we follow?
We did! There didn't seem to be any other place to go, other than back home. I couldn't even call and find out if we were heading in the right direction because there wasn't a phone number for the terminal on the bill of lading.
I drove slowly in the pitch dark, splashing through standing water in the dips in the lot. When we got to the terminal we pulled around to the back, since the front side was deserted.
What we found out back was an identical long, long, long terminal. But at least this one had a number of trailers backed up to the docks and the dock doors were open. All the dock doors were open - the entire length. It looked like a good place for a murder mystery. We still didn't see a living, breathing soul.
We didn't know if we should pull up to a dock and yell, or what, so we kept driving, slowly - all the way down the row of docks - to the end - around the corner - to the front again. Now we were between the two terminals. There seemed to be a bit more activity with a few trucks arriving, but we felt so small in our little Subaru Forester next to the semi's and the terminal.
We headed to a lighted doorway which looked like a hub of activity. The hub of activity was only a couple of men standing outside talking. We were making progress.
When I told him why we were there he directed us to the other terminal, told us where to park, what stairs to go up, and to turn left.
We drove over, parked the car, went inside, and turned left. There were about a half a dozen men and women inside a large office. The man at the counter asked for my license and then directed us to the other end of the dock. He would send someone out with our cabinet.
Pretty soon a fork lift came tooling down the terminal, then down the ramp to the back of our car. The forklift driver, even though he was skeptical of the quality of our purchase, helped Stephen load it in the back of our Forester. We had to move our front seats up as far as they would go, but we were able to close the back door.
I was thrilled to get it at all, thrilled it arrived in a few days, thrilled that he helped us load it, and thrilled that it fit in the back of the car.
When we got it to back to our house, we unloaded it in the garage and cut off the plastic wrap for the unveiling.
YRC, the trucking company, phoned this afternoon and said my package was in and I could pick it up at their dock. They said I could pick it up anytime between six in the morning to eleven at night, but not to come early afternoon because that was when they were the busiest.
Stephen and I left around 5 p.m. It was pretty dark by the time we turned onto their street. I had the address and assumed a trucking company would be easy to find - YRC lettering and a large building with docks and semi-trucks.
We traveled down a nearly deserted road with a huge landfill straight in front of us and a "STOP dead-end" sign blocking our path. None of the businesses to the right or the left had any kind of business sign. None of them even looked like anyone was around.
Finally, a semi-turned in front of us and drove through a huge parking lot to a long, long, long terminal. It looked to be deserted. There wasn't a sign of a living soul or a truck except for the one that had turned in there and was now disappearing around the building. Dared we follow?
We did! There didn't seem to be any other place to go, other than back home. I couldn't even call and find out if we were heading in the right direction because there wasn't a phone number for the terminal on the bill of lading.
I drove slowly in the pitch dark, splashing through standing water in the dips in the lot. When we got to the terminal we pulled around to the back, since the front side was deserted.
What we found out back was an identical long, long, long terminal. But at least this one had a number of trailers backed up to the docks and the dock doors were open. All the dock doors were open - the entire length. It looked like a good place for a murder mystery. We still didn't see a living, breathing soul.
We didn't know if we should pull up to a dock and yell, or what, so we kept driving, slowly - all the way down the row of docks - to the end - around the corner - to the front again. Now we were between the two terminals. There seemed to be a bit more activity with a few trucks arriving, but we felt so small in our little Subaru Forester next to the semi's and the terminal.
We headed to a lighted doorway which looked like a hub of activity. The hub of activity was only a couple of men standing outside talking. We were making progress.
When I told him why we were there he directed us to the other terminal, told us where to park, what stairs to go up, and to turn left.
We drove over, parked the car, went inside, and turned left. There were about a half a dozen men and women inside a large office. The man at the counter asked for my license and then directed us to the other end of the dock. He would send someone out with our cabinet.
Pretty soon a fork lift came tooling down the terminal, then down the ramp to the back of our car. The forklift driver, even though he was skeptical of the quality of our purchase, helped Stephen load it in the back of our Forester. We had to move our front seats up as far as they would go, but we were able to close the back door.
I was thrilled to get it at all, thrilled it arrived in a few days, thrilled that he helped us load it, and thrilled that it fit in the back of the car.
When we got it to back to our house, we unloaded it in the garage and cut off the plastic wrap for the unveiling.
Ta Da! Here it is! Isn't it cute?
I tried all the drawers and doors and they work great. Once the painter gets to this piece it should be gorgeous once again.
As far as I could tell tonight, there was only one mishap in shipping. A bent bar. Not bad considering how far it traveled to get here and the company it probably had to keep on the way.
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1 comments:
Still working I see! Hope all is coming together nicely for you. Happy Thanksgiving.
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