First we went to the closest one on Washington Boulevard. When we get there, we ask the attendant: "Do you have any pick-up trucks available?" to which he replied "no." Which surprised me, because he looked like he ran out of words years before. We were completely unsuccessful in eliciting any kind of helpful response from this dude, just nods, head shakes, and grunts. We gave up, and went to the next U-Haul location, which location was the only useful information we got from him.
In the next location we waited in line for fifteen minutes, while listening to repeated, non-stop, renditions of the theme for Super Mario Bros 1 on the cellphone belonging to the U-Haul employer who was currently on her break. When we finally reached the counter, things appeared to begin moving in our favor. We secured ourselves a small U-Haul truck, and waited outside for the lady to come out with the keys. Ten minutes later we wondered where the heck she was. We went inside to ask her what was taking so long, to which she replied "Oh, yeah, you come to get the truck for your mom, right?" We answered no, so she said "Oh, ok, you are returning one, right?" No again. After explaining her in detail what our situation was, she remembered. We finally got our truck, and went on our way to the dump (after taking our car home).
But alas, this was never to be (dum-dum-dum-TADAAAA).
While driving the U-Haul, we noticed a knocking sound that progressively grew louder and louder, to the point that we couldn't hear ourselves think. While pulling onto the freeway, this knocking sound worsened, and suddenly stopped. It was at this moment that smock and steam (I couldn't tell you which was which at this moment, but there were both...) began billowing out of the vehicle via each possible crack and hole. We knew we must pull over and abandon the vehicle ASAP. We wanted to call the customer service, but we couldn't find our cellphone, which only made Megan and I grow closer together than we've ever been. Yeah... That's how it went... I'm pretty sure...
We then walked five blocks to the closest gas station, and called U-Haul from a pay-phone. Luckily, the number was toll free, so the call didn't require any money. We had no cash, no car, and no phone!!!
The first person who helped us was extremely patient and understanding. She assured us that she would be in contact with a U-Haul mechanic, who would come to our rescue soon. Unfortunately our situation required a call back to the pay phone to verify that we were really at that location. She called back, and when Megan answered, the operator asked to insert 50 cents, which Megan hurriedly did. Alas, the phone call was paid for, but there was no voice on the other end when the call went through. The dang phone ate our money and we were really sore out of luck with absolutely no more change.
We called back half an hour later, and you can imagine Manuel's frustration when he had to explain the entire situation yet again, this time to an employee of U-Haul's customer service who apparently was experiencing his first real day on the job. The employee's supervisor could be heard on the other end directing this poor kid's every move. The new representative denied that anything could be done to help us, or that a contractor could even be reached in order to help us. WHAT??? We were apparently being told that U-Haul assumed no responsibility for the nightmare that had just occurred!
We were finally connected with the mechanic who was supposed to come pick us up, and he told us that at the current moment he was in Brigham City, and that it would take him an hour to come pick us up, and asked us if we had something to write down his number. Megan replied that we didn't, to which he answered asking us for our cellphone number. Megan explained to him that we had forgotten it, and in that precise moment, our cellphone begins ringing and sending threats to us from Meg's purse (that's a funny ringtone, by the way).
After talking to the mechanic guy, and having over an hour in our hands to relax and enjoy the view, we went inside the convenience store one more time, and had lunch. When the guy at the sandwich store inside the gas station asked what did we want in our sandwiches, Manuel leaned in the glass in order to see the toppings better, and asked very enthusiastically "Is that pickle there!??" To which the guy, who had a Mahwah and black finger nails responded "yes. Please don't lean on the glass." We seated to eat our lunch, and the other attendant, a woman, came and wiped our neighbors' table while she complained about having to actually having to do something at work, and how much life stunk. In the meantime, our truck's emergency lights blinked in the distance...
A little over an hour later, the mechanic calls and tells us that, unfortunately, he won't be able to make it, so he decided to send his friend in a yellow AAA truck to come pick us up, and that he should be there in five minutes. Fifteen minutes later, a guy in a yellow AAA truck comes into the gas station, and Meg waves her hand at him. He waves back and drives right through us. A few minutes later he comes back and says "Sorry, I guess you were the guys I was looking for."
The AAA guy takes us to our U-Haul truck, attaches it to the yellow truck, sneaks through the window and says "Do you want to know what happened to the truck? Out of curiosity? The motor blew up!!"
This guy took us to the U-Haul store where we got the truck, which is, according to mapquest, 2.95 miles away from our house. So, it is 4:00 PM, and we are walking home under one of the hottest days of the summer's sun. Life can't be any better.
Oh, I almost forgot. The garbage is still there...
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