Ton-miles of concrete
Load number ten . . .
couldn't stand to sit any longer, and besides, the temperature is less than ninety outside. So, since it's almost dark (8:45 PM), I drag out of my chair by the window and go toss the last of the broken concrete from that first slab into the bed of the Ranger. I could have divided it over the previous loads, but at least I haven't blown a tire or broken a spring or an axle. The truck was not very nimble, nor was it overly responsive to the throttle. But it is not broken. So it's all good.
Now, as an homage to my high school math teacher Bob Phillips, who is only nine years older than I am (go figure), here are some computations I ran just for the halibut.
I have moved 9.125 tons of concrete 17 miles, physically hoisting it into and out of the bed of the aforementioned Ranger. That works out to having physically handled 18.25 tons . . . Tennessee Ernie's got nothin' on this boy . . . between Sunday and Friday, not to mention horsing that blankety-blank-blank sixty-five pound jackhammer around in the heat. The ton-mileage works out to a little over 155 ton-mile.
What's hard to envision is that, if it comes a monster rain, the creek can blow that right out in a day, day-and-a-half. It's humbling.
The total slab I am taking out is composed of several smaller slabs. I think I have just taken out the one under where Mr. Moore had his refrigerated locker. There's another slab in front of it that I think was the original store . . . and I believe (I'll know for sure later) that it sits on an older slab . . . plus another slab to the main store's left as you face the street. Then there's the 4500-pound front step. To that add a couple of water and gas lines and a couple of cast iron four-inch drain pipes.
It will be worth it.
Because Life is Good, y'all.
couldn't stand to sit any longer, and besides, the temperature is less than ninety outside. So, since it's almost dark (8:45 PM), I drag out of my chair by the window and go toss the last of the broken concrete from that first slab into the bed of the Ranger. I could have divided it over the previous loads, but at least I haven't blown a tire or broken a spring or an axle. The truck was not very nimble, nor was it overly responsive to the throttle. But it is not broken. So it's all good.
Now, as an homage to my high school math teacher Bob Phillips, who is only nine years older than I am (go figure), here are some computations I ran just for the halibut.
I have moved 9.125 tons of concrete 17 miles, physically hoisting it into and out of the bed of the aforementioned Ranger. That works out to having physically handled 18.25 tons . . . Tennessee Ernie's got nothin' on this boy . . . between Sunday and Friday, not to mention horsing that blankety-blank-blank sixty-five pound jackhammer around in the heat. The ton-mileage works out to a little over 155 ton-mile.
What's hard to envision is that, if it comes a monster rain, the creek can blow that right out in a day, day-and-a-half. It's humbling.
The total slab I am taking out is composed of several smaller slabs. I think I have just taken out the one under where Mr. Moore had his refrigerated locker. There's another slab in front of it that I think was the original store . . . and I believe (I'll know for sure later) that it sits on an older slab . . . plus another slab to the main store's left as you face the street. Then there's the 4500-pound front step. To that add a couple of water and gas lines and a couple of cast iron four-inch drain pipes.
It will be worth it.
Because Life is Good, y'all.
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