U-Haul does not make moving easier.



So, last Tuesday or Wednesday I reserve a 14-foot U-Haul truck to move a washer/dryer, two couches, a coffeetable, an exercise bike, and 3 or 4 boxes to my dad's house. So Saturday morning I go to pick it up, and they don't have it. (Immediately the Seinfeld episode comes to mind... "you know how to take the reservation, you just don't know how to hold the reservation.")

Please call the 1-800 number...

After 15 minutes of holding, I get a service rep who says that there are no trucks in the Nashville area (see above photo), but one should be turned back in soon, and we'll call you when it's available, maybe 30 minutes to an hour. Two hours later, we're still on hold (my mom and Anthony Brooks are also on hold trying to get through), and finally Anthony gets ahold of someone (Teresa), and uses his uncanny skills of persuasion to have them call us back in ten minutes, yea or nay.

Five minutes later, Teresa calls back and says that they don't have a 14-foot truck, but they do have a 26-foot truck. Sure, why not? (I wasn't driving, anyway.) So we put my few items in the truck, and there was room leftover to put my car in there too, except the truck's wheel wells got in the way.

Sometime later, we're on the road to Lexington. An hour out of Nashville, we find an accident on I-40W, and traffic is stopped. So after 15 minutes of sitting in my car, people are walking around, I'm reading a book, and someone knocks on my car window. It's Mr. Mallard, my college art professor. So we talk for about five minutes until traffic starts moving again, and it went about 20 mph for the next ten minutes.

I never actually saw any wrecked vehicles, either. Hm.

Labels: life