‘Round here, Friday’s post (on a Saturday) is for appreciating the overlooked gems, the fine art, the things that make it good to be an Earthling.
You know, Beethoven’s obscure piano trios and such, or a small French painting.
But when’s the last time you’ve listened to a dump truck?
Curtis downshifted, downshifted again with authority, and she snarled, rolling to a stop. The squeak of the brakes, the hiss of air, the shifting of heavy metal, and then we were off again on a test ride around the block for his new rig.
“Man…man! It’s got all the right sounds” I exclaimed, happy as one of Jack Kerouac’s beatniks digging some jazzman’s tune at 3 am.
Curtis laughed one of those surprised well this guy’s a little off, but he’s got a point laughs, and shifted again, driving around that Maryland neighborhood a decade ago.
***
The house build has involved lots of dump trucks. They have the right sounds, too. Shoveling dirt the other day with one of those timeless implements (shovels are so boring when hydraulics abound), I paused, straightening an aching back and surveyed the front yard. Not done yet. (It’s never done when you’re not using power tools.)
I heard that glorious downshift, the snort and snarl, and then the hollow greeting of brakes.
“Hey Josh, got some dirt for you.”
This build is a blast. Anytime a big truck rolls by, it’s for me. Sure beats Amazon Prime.
Dan backed in with a beep beep beep, the same sound that annoyed my childhood neighborhood when Cliff five doors down started doing 4 am airport transportation, but thrilled me.
It means that things are happening, and you’d better get out of the way. It means the world is in good hands.
***
Did you know that for $740 and a quick phone call, you can have eighteen tons of crushed stone rolling your way?
Thursday afternoon sat quiet on the land, a little car occasionally whining along on light tires.
But then: a turbo whine, a chuff, a snort, growly growly, the downshift, a squeal, a stop and idle like the panting of a pitbull, blocking a poodle of a car behind him.
All these years later, after a lifetime of playing with the little yellow trucks and pretending that wagons had running boards: A hoist, and a heave, and I leaned in the window.
“Just back it in there if you would. Tryin’ to drop it by the slab.”
Go listen to a dump truck. They rock.
Shotgun!
Best post ever! The sounds of progress!