nothing stolen, but a funny story...
About three years ago, the Friday before Labor Day weekend started, I arrived at work to find 14 bags of garbage in front of our shop door here in Reno. We had planned on a nice, easy day before heading up to Meadow Lake for the weekend. Didn't have any huge projects scheduled, just a couple of brake jobs, and oil changes, and we'd be on the road by one o'clock. Eric and Jim ask me if I would do a dump run before we got started on anything else, and instead of using the shop truck
(s10), I backed my '73 F250 up to the door to load up the 14 bags of trash this prick dumped there. (33 gallon bags!) My truck has a double-ram Crysteel lift under the stock bed, so I thought about going through all of the trash to find a paper trail with an address, ANYTHING, just like someone else did on a previous post. I thought it would be best not to waste any time so we could get out of town at a decent hour, so I just went to the Sage St. transfer station. But I decided to cut open the bags anyway. I found cell phone bills, house utilities, credit card receipts, and hey what have we here?
Molasses? A gallon of it! Gulden's brown mustard?, Ketchup? yeah baby! A brand new squeeze bottle of mayo, and a gallon of apple cider vinegar. I saved all of it, and went back to work, after hitting the switch to dump the garbage in the pit (instead of in their front yard). Upon leaving the shop I told Eric I would meet him at Meadow Lake that evening since all of us had to go shopping and fill the coolers. But Mikey also had to make one more stop...:mad3:
I pulled out one of the utility receipts to get the address for this place, and drove by. It was obvious they were moving out, but I didn't see any action. So I parked my truck on the corner and went to the front door. My original intent was to hand the guy back his stuff I collected and let him know how pissed:flipoff: I was that I got to clean up his shit, but it didn't work out that way. See, when I got to the front door, all I could hear was a bunch of shouting upstairs between this lazy fawker and his sig. other, and a bunch of sexist, racial:rasta: slurs that I won't repeat here. So I thought to myself, "PERFECT!" I ran back to the truck and carried ALL of the refrigerator spooge back to the front porch, I stepped inside the front door, and gave 'er hell.:nuke: Hardwood floors. Whata disaster! New paint on the walls? Not anymore! Molasses on the area rug? Done for! And just so I wouldn't look as chickenshit as he was, I left him a :flipoff2: *F-You*:flipoff2: note under the ketchup bottle, complete with my name and where he could find me, with the information that if he went to the cops about this, he would be in deep shit, because I had all of his personal info, and that I took pictures of all of the crap at the shop. So I finally get out of Reno, and realize that we forgot to buy eggs. When we got to Sierraville, we pulled into the C-store, and my wife, Kris, runs in. Then the truck died. Swapped out the coilwire, and we were on our way. Got to the top of the hill on hwy 89, the turn-off for Jackson Meadows, and remembered the pancake batter on the counter at home that I forgot to pack. Dammit!! We can't go camping without the pancake batter!! So back to Sierraville we go. By the time we got to Meadow Lake, I figured Eric and his family would already be there with the rest our crew. He wasn't. And then I started to worry. "What if that dickhead came back to the shop to get even, or...?"
Long story shortened, Eric finally showed up, and when I told him (and everybody else) what I did, and why I was worried, the whole scene around the campfire was hysterical:laughing: :laughing: :laughing: :laughing: We never heard a word more from this scumbag