The Time I Duct Taped Our Truck Together on the Shoulder of Rt 202
It’s October of 2014, and our happy little food truck is eastbound and barreling down Rt 202 on a warm, windy day, approaching the 101 exit. We’re heading to food truck night at Chaparral Elementary in Gilbert.
Now, at this stage of the truck’s evolution, the passenger-side mirror shook violently once we’d hit about 30 MPH, leaving the health and safety of ourselves and others completely in the hands of whomever was riding shotgun, anytime we had to merge right. I’m driving in the HOV lane (obviously), so I start the process of merging across four lanes of traffic to get to our exit about two miles ahead of time.
Me, driving: “Can I get over?”
Nessa, riding shotgun: “Uhhh…”
Me, louder: “CAN I GET OVER?”
Nessa, perplexed: “I can’t see a damned thing.”
Panicked, I pulled the truck over into the shoulder of Rt 202, and climbed over Venessa to inspect the outside of the truck from the six inch gap between our passenger-side door and the speeding, lets-effing-beat-rush-hour traffic.
As it turns out, the thin, stainless steel awning that covers our service windows had partially blown back from the force of the wind. It literally peeled off from the front of its mount, and was flapping in the wind.
Me, heels on the highway rumble strip: “DUCT TAPE!”
Nessa: “ALREADY GOT IT.”
So there I was on the side of Rt 202 at rush hour, duct taping the awning of our truck to its body, and reevaluating life while traffic nipped at my heels.
We made it to the gig about 10 minutes late, sold a bunch of pretzels, and rode the right lane all the way home.