R and I volunteered to do a bit of community wood-cutting up at the community centre. On email, I asked the guy who got the logs to the dump-area if there was a truck to use to get the rounds we cut up further up the hill to the splitting area. His answer: “I’ll ask S.”
So, R and I went up, fired up the chainsaws and started whacking away. After a dozen or so rounds were lying about, I looked around and, lo and behold, there was S’s truck just across the road – one of those little white JDM trucks. I wandered over looking for a note that might read: “Dave – use truck!”
Well, there was no note. But the key was in the truck. And I know S’s truck when I see it and so, by deduction, obviously S had dropped the truck for me and I was supposed to use it.
So, I did. Got the rounds loaded up and drove them up the hill to the woodshed behind the community ‘house’ in which most formal events are held. As R continued to cut, I continued to load, drive and unload. We were doing rather well but, after an hour and half, both of us were getting a bit fatigued.
I was up the hill unloading when Sal popped in from doing yoga in the gymn next door to see how we were doing and, while inquiring, mentioned, “Oh! You are the one who stole Kath’s truck! You can now add ‘CAR THIEF’ to your CV, hahahaha.”
“Waddya mean? S didn’t leave it for me? Kath was using it? Yikes! I thought it was pre-arranged!”
I drove down to the dump area just to see Kath wandering up the road on her way home by shanks mare. I yelled to her: “I give up! Don’t shoot!” I then spun up against the front of the truck legs and arms fully extended. Kath laughed and said, “I am not going to arrest you!”
“I know. I just like being frisked.”
I explained my way out of it and she was very gracious. Grand Theft Auto: who says you can’t get away with it?