Monday, January 14, 2013

Reposted - Further evidence God hates the rowing team

I was recently reminded of this Facebook Note from October 2007 and thought it'd be fun to share again with the world.  I was on the University of Missouri Rowing team and we went to Indianapolis for a regatta.  Hilarity did not ensure.
The original is here.

To Indy:

So there we are, going down the highway. Most of us are together, James is nowhere to be seen - typical. Oh shit, the tire on the trailer's going to explode. Do we have a spare? Of course not, it's sitting at South Farm. Which is fine, because we don't have a jack either. So we stop at a tire store that'll sell us a tire, but not a rim to put it on. We add air to the tire, and press on. So far, so good.



We get to Butler.

Thompson's car shows up later - nice of them to join us.



To the lake:

Jacqueline (the person who knows where we're going) leaves before the truck does. The truck gets lost. In a residential neighborhood. (Please note: 8's are approximately 50-60 feet long. A commercial semi-trailer is approximately 50-60 feet long. And we're in a residential neighborhood) This means narrow streets, dead ends, and tight turns. And apparently speed bumps too.

The truck hits a speed bump.

The trailer falls off the truck.

The trailer falls off the truck. Thankfully we have strong chains - chains that are strong enough to drag the trailer 100 yards while I get out of Pye's car and run along the truck yelling at Jane to stop.

The crank jack's completely bent, but we use it anyways, cranking the trailer high enough to fit Cindy the cinder block and her friends under.

Some clubs go to Venture Out for team-building-overcoming-obstacles experience. We put our trailer back on the truck, and proceed to the lake.

We get to the lake, an hour and a half after we left.



Coming home:

Suprise, surprise, Pye's car is the only one by the trailer because everyone went ahead of it.

We're going down I-70 just out of town, and I turn to Pye and comment that a strap seems to be flapping around. Is it just the slack was poorly tied? No - one of the gunwales of our 4 wasn't on the rack anymore - it was just hanging in midair. We pull up next to the truck, and gesture franticly for them to pull over.

We restrap down the 4. We check all the other straps and tighten them as needed. We use athletic tape to fix the bar on the trailer that's not attached.

You'd think almost having a boat fall of the trailer would be about the worst point in this trip, but if it was, this note wouldn't be titled "Further proof God hates the rowing team."



We stop for gas in Terra Haute, IN. Par for the course, we get 8 MPG. We make a wrong turn getting back on the highway. Again, par for the course with this team. We try turning around. Please note the word 'try.' We hit another speed bump.

The trailer falls off the truck.

Again.

We're at a long-term camping RV park, so some people come to help us. They're doing a good job of not laughing at us, but we know they're laughing on the inside. The jack's destroyed, so Pye and I go to Walmart to buy a jack. Somehow they get the trailer reattached and turned around w/o us and we go to the gas station we just left.

Plan: detach the trailer, put th right size all on the hitch.

We try jacking up the trailer. Again, please note the word 'try.' The jack's not strong enough.

We all laugh uncontrollably for a couple minutes, because if we don't, we're all going to cry.

Pye, myself, and now Carp go back to Walmart. We say hi to the same clerk we'd just seen. We get a better jack, and the right size ball.

Back to the gas station, jack up the trailer, take the hitch off the truck, and go back to Walmart.

We split up. Pye returns the first jack. I find jack stands. Carp goes to have the auto center put the new ball on the hitch.

They won't put it on for us. We find the right wrench for the bolt, but can't find one for the ball. We're told to go the Merards 15 minutes away.

We go to check out, and chat w/ our clerk for a bit. He pulls over a coworker, and him and Carp go devise some system that will work. We keep talking to our clerk.

Carp comes back, we pay for all this shit.

Pye and the guy exchange PS3 gamer tags. We've made a friend.

We return to the trailer.

We put on the new ball, hook up the trailer. It fits much better. We re-ducttape the trailer's light adapter contraption to the truck.

We leave Indiana several hours after we should have.



We drive. And drive. And drive.

Every time we stop, we laugh uncontrollably.



We stop for dinner at Burger King. The guy at the table next to us is snoring.

Loudly.

When leaving, Carp decides to be Carp. Somehow he ended up flat on the ground in the parking lot.

We get home. After midnight.

Most people would go home and crash at this point. We say "fuck normal."

After a trip like this, we drink. Until 3AM on a Monday morning, when we're all tired to begin with.

Pye passes out quickly. Too much beer? Too little sleep? Doesn't matter.
Putting the trailer back on - the first time.
Putting the trailer back on - the second time.