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Moving  Never in my life have I ever met anyone who enjoyed moving.  I also never met anyone who was any good at it, especially the so-called “professionals,” as we shall see.  Moving is one of those things that almost all of us have to face eventually and I think we can all agree that, even under the best of circumstances, moving is one of those all too frequent experiences that both sucks and blows. That is not to say that moving is all bad.  There are a few things associated with moving that a raging optimist, such as myself… ok, scratch that.  When it comes to moving I am more about the rage than the optimism.  I do have a positive outlook about the whole thing:  I’m positive that it is going to be a horrible experience.  Anyway, some of the benefits include: 1. You really do find out who your friends are:  My buddy, Bob, has had to move several times and I have always stepped up to the challenge, even though I would rather jab myself in the eye with a fork or pierce my own nipples.  When it was me needing the help, Bob always had some unalterable conflict which prevented him from being able to lend a hand (my dog is sick, I have to clip my toenails or my pussy hurts).   Right.  Whatever.  On the other hand, my friend Al, the ferocious Attila the Hun biker comedian, was almost always there for me even though he was on active duty and hardly ever in town. 2. Moving provides an opportunity to clear out the accumulation of crap you really don’t need, such as that limited edition Christopher Columbus collectors plate, the exercise bike-turned-clothes-hangar, or all the dead hookers stored in the attic. 3. You get to rediscover cool stuff that you totally forgot you had, for example: that velvet painting of Elvis, the ninja throwing stars you stabbed a friend with when you were a kid or the unofficial Meritorious Service commendation you received from the guys along with the Article 15 for telling your asshole commanding officer to go fuck himself. This time the move was a little more involved in that I was not just going across town but across the country from South Carolina to Texas.  My Texas pal offered to fly out and help drive one of the two required U-Haul trucks.  I wasn’t too keen on that option mainly because of my Mustang and the chopper, plus I am an idiot, so I opted for a moving company.  In doing the research, I discovered that moving companies rate from bad to really bad, so I chose the one with the fewest bad reviews.  I won’t mention any names in case I get sued for this article but the company name rhymes with “Smits Drape.”  The trouble started almost immediately.  All moving companies charge for their services based on weight.  My chopper weighs 703 pounds according to AIH.  Smits Drape tried to use the gross vehicle weight, which includes riders – 1100 or so pounds.  I informed them that “me and my bitch were not planning on riding in the truck with the chopper,” so I won that round.  I had packed almost everything ahead of time but would need for them to box up the remainder, so they asked me how many boxes to bring.  I said 10 because that is what I would have needed.  They brought 40 boxes and used them all, charging me for each box.  Why so many?  Simple: they don’t pack them!  Got a lampshade?  That’s one box.  A vase?  That’s another box.  Never mind that you can put all kinds of stuff in there with them.  This is one way moving companies make their money.  For that and other hidden fees my $4,900 estimate ballooned to $7,200 when all was said and done.  Nice. When the crew finally showed up an hour and a half late, I was a little alarmed to see that most of them bore a striking resemblance to these guys: I told them to let me know before they loaded the chopper so I could pump up the air ride suspension.  That way it wouldn’t scrape across the ramp going into the truck.  Later, I happened to look out the window to see four of these goobers hustling it up the ramp and sure enough – BANG!  It bottomed out on the lip.  If I didn’t need the manpower I would have shot them, mutilated their corpses and sent their bloody scalps to their families for such a heinous crime.  Instead, I just yelled at them.  I do have to admit that they packed up my precious RC Airplanes very well, but only because by that time I was hovering over them and giving them the evil eye. Moving companies won’t transport hazardous materials of any kind.  I’m sure most of you have a shop that is chock full of lacquer thinner, paint, acetone and etcetera.  I would have to carry that cross-country in my car, which meant traveling all the way through South Carolina - with the worst drivers in the nation - and Louisiana, whose bad drivers come in at #2.  I could easily see someone crashing into me and driving me into a concrete divider, flip the car and roll over a few times, burst into flames, unbuckle my seatbelt to run down the highway like a human torch and then get nailed by a tractor trailer, knocking me into a ditch where I start a grass fire that winds up consuming a nearby subdivision, killing a few hundred pregnant mothers.  With my luck, I would probably live and spend the rest of my days as a burn-scarred paraplegic, blowing into a straw on my wheelchair to get around with my one remaining lip.  Of course, every dark cloud has a silver lining: Halloween would be my special holiday!  Fortunately, I made it through both states without issue save for minor honking and bird- flipping. I had to put my things into a storage unit and, of course, the moving company charged extra for that because instead of dumping it into a big room they would have to arrange things into a smaller space, which is really just a weak excuse to charge extra.  When the movers opened the door to the truck I could already see trouble.  My guess is that they decided to break up the monotony of the long trip by taking a detour to see just how well an 18-wheeler could handle a Baja-style off- road race.  Well, I hope they won.  I have an antique dining room suite that was a wedding present to my grandparents in 1920.  This is just one of the 3 chairs that they broke: In addition to that, the beautiful entertainment center I ordered special from Cherry Point, North Carolina was broken and beat to hell and almost every other large piece of furniture sustained varying degrees of damage.  It would be easier to list the stuff they didn’t mess up than try to detail what they wrecked.  Suffice to say, a lot of my household goods were folded, spindled and otherwise mutilated.  That’s what insurance is for, right?  Wrong.  Smits Drape skillfully weaseled out of paying for any of the damages. After wearing out my welcome at a friend’s vacation house, which also made for 2 ½ hours of commute time every day, I rented a house closer to work.  When I went to retrieve my stuff from the storage unit I discovered that heavy spring rains and a leaking roof had added to the carnage wrought by the moving company.  My clothes were in cardboard boxes on the floor where standing water had seeped in, making a moldy, mildewed mess out of my threads.  In fact, mold was all over everything.  The couch was right under the leak and it looked like someone had left a giant Cleveland Steamer right in the middle of it.  My one quality piece of art – a large oil painting that was “liberated” from a storage room where I once worked – was trashed.  Anything sitting on the floor that was made of particle board was destroyed.  At least my big screen TV made it through unscathed…  I estimated ~$5,500 in damages.  Fortunately, the storage company was more honorable than the moving company and paid their maximum insurance commitment of $3,000.  On that score I simply lost a lot as opposed to getting ass-raped. When I was younger I had a house and wanted to return to school.  Major downsizing was required to move into an efficiency apartment better suited for my work/study situation.  Since selling furniture and other stuff is virtually impossible, I gave away my entire home infrastructure, keeping only what was needed.  After graduation, I bought another house and rebuilt over the years.  Then I made the major boo-boo of marrying the Anti-Christ.  Part of that curse was the determination that her stuff was gold and my stuff was crap.  Since I didn’t have a say in the matter, I gave it all away again.  Once the Anti-Christ was through bleeding me dry I had to rebuild for a second time.  With the move to Texas, hell and be damned if I was going to let it go for a third time.  Oh, the irony!  It would have been easier and cheaper to keep my moving money, give all the clothes, furniture and other stuff away to charity for the tax deduction and start over again.  Or maybe just burn the house down.  Instead, I paid big bucks to have it trashed for me and am now living like a broke college student with crap furniture and hand-me-downs.  My TV is propped up on the remaining two pieces of my entertainment center, I only have a few clothes and my furniture reeks of mildew despite a thorough cleaning with bleach.  Of course, I still have a cool-ass chopper and an awesome car so that’s something.  Next step: buy another house.  Then, I’ll fill it up with nice stuff and hope like hell I never have to move again!
February 19, 2016
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ORGANIZATION ORGANIZATION OWNERS OWNERS For All American Ironhorse Motorcycle Owners
Fat Max
© 2012-2017   American IronHorse Owners Organization Use of AIH Logo Licensed by American Ironhorse, LLC 
Moving  Never in my life have I ever met anyone who enjoyed moving.  I also never met anyone who was any good at it, especially the so-called “professionals,” as we shall see.  Moving is one of those things that almost all of us have to face eventually and I think we can all agree that, even under the best of circumstances, moving is one of those all too frequent experiences that both sucks and blows. That is not to say that moving is all bad.  There are a few things associated with moving that a raging optimist, such as myself… ok, scratch that.  When it comes to moving I am more about the rage than the optimism.  I do have a positive outlook about the whole thing:  I’m positive that it is going to be a horrible experience.  Anyway, some of the benefits include: 1. You really do find out who your friends are:  My buddy, Bob, has had to move several times and I have always stepped up to the challenge, even though I would rather jab myself in the eye with a fork or pierce my own nipples.  When it was me needing the help, Bob always had some unalterable conflict which prevented him from being able to lend a hand (my dog is sick, I have to clip my toenails or my pussy hurts).   Right.  Whatever.  On the other hand, my friend Al, the ferocious Attila the Hun biker comedian, was almost always there for me even though he was on active duty and hardly ever in town. 2. Moving provides an opportunity to clear out the accumulation of crap you really don’t need, such as that limited edition Christopher Columbus collectors plate, the exercise bike-turned-clothes-hangar, or all the dead hookers stored in the attic. 3. You get to rediscover cool stuff that you totally forgot you had, for example: that velvet painting of Elvis, the ninja throwing stars you stabbed a friend with when you were a kid or the unofficial Meritorious Service commendation you received from the guys along with the Article 15 for telling your asshole commanding officer to go fuck himself. This time the move was a little more involved in that I was not just going across town but across the country from South Carolina to Texas.  My Texas pal offered to fly out and help drive one of the two required U-Haul trucks.  I wasn’t too keen on that option mainly because of my Mustang and the chopper, plus I am an idiot, so I opted for a moving company.  In doing the research, I discovered that moving companies rate from bad to really bad, so I chose the one with the fewest bad reviews.  I won’t mention any names in case I get sued for this article but the company name rhymes with “Smits Drape.”  The trouble started almost immediately.  All moving companies charge for their services based on weight.  My chopper weighs 703 pounds according to AIH.  Smits Drape tried to use the gross vehicle weight, which includes riders – 1100 or so pounds.  I informed them that “me and my bitch were not planning on riding in the truck with the chopper,” so I won that round.  I had packed almost everything ahead of time but would need for them to box up the remainder, so they asked me how many boxes to bring.  I said 10 because that is what I would have needed.  They brought 40 boxes and used them all, charging me for each box.  Why so many?  Simple: they don’t pack them!  Got a lampshade?  That’s one box.  A vase?  That’s another box.  Never mind that you can put all kinds of stuff in there with them.  This is one way moving companies make their money.  For that and other hidden fees my $4,900 estimate ballooned to $7,200 when all was said and done.  Nice. When the crew finally showed up an hour and a half late, I was a little alarmed to see that most of them bore a striking resemblance to these guys: I told them to let me know before they loaded the chopper so I could pump up the air ride suspension.  That way it wouldn’t scrape across the ramp going into the truck.  Later, I happened to look out the window to see four of these goobers hustling it up the ramp and sure enough – BANG!  It bottomed out on the lip.  If I didn’t need the manpower I would have shot them, mutilated their corpses and sent their bloody scalps to their families for such a heinous crime.  Instead, I just yelled at them.  I do have to admit that they packed up my precious RC Airplanes very well, but only because by that time I was hovering over them and giving them the evil eye. Moving companies won’t transport hazardous materials of any kind.  I’m sure most of you have a shop that is chock full of lacquer thinner, paint, acetone and etcetera.  I would have to carry that cross-country in my car, which meant traveling all the way through South Carolina - with the worst drivers in the nation - and Louisiana, whose bad drivers come in at #2.  I could easily see someone crashing into me and driving me into a concrete divider, flip the car and roll over a few times, burst into flames, unbuckle my seatbelt to run down the highway like a human torch and then get nailed by a tractor trailer, knocking me into a ditch where I start a grass fire that winds up consuming a nearby subdivision, killing a few hundred pregnant mothers.  With my luck, I would probably live and spend the rest of my days as a burn-scarred paraplegic, blowing into a straw on my wheelchair to get around with my one remaining lip.  Of course, every dark cloud has a silver lining: Halloween would be my special holiday!  Fortunately, I made it through both states without issue save for minor honking and bird-flipping. I had to put my things into a storage unit and, of course, the moving company charged extra for that because instead of dumping it into a big room they would have to arrange things into a smaller space, which is really just a weak excuse to charge extra.  When the movers opened the door to the truck I could already see trouble.  My guess is that they decided to break up the monotony of the long trip by taking a detour to see just how well an 18-wheeler could handle a Baja-style off- road race.  Well, I hope they won.  I have an antique dining room suite that was a wedding present to my grandparents in 1920.  This is just one of the 3 chairs that they broke: In addition to that, the beautiful entertainment center I ordered special from Cherry Point, North Carolina was broken and beat to hell and almost every other large piece of furniture sustained varying degrees of damage.  It would be easier to list the stuff they didn’t mess up than try to detail what they wrecked.  Suffice to say, a lot of my household goods were folded, spindled and otherwise mutilated.  That’s what insurance is for, right?  Wrong.  Smits Drape skillfully weaseled out of paying for any of the damages. After wearing out my welcome at a friend’s vacation house, which also made for 2 ½ hours of commute time every day, I rented a house closer to work.  When I went to retrieve my stuff from the storage unit I discovered that heavy spring rains and a leaking roof had added to the carnage wrought by the moving company.  My clothes were in cardboard boxes on the floor where standing water had seeped in, making a moldy, mildewed mess out of my threads.  In fact, mold was all over everything.  The couch was right under the leak and it looked like someone had left a giant Cleveland Steamer right in the middle of it.  My one quality piece of art – a large oil painting that was “liberated” from a storage room where I once worked – was trashed.  Anything sitting on the floor that was made of particle board was destroyed.  At least my big screen TV made it through unscathed…  I estimated ~$5,500 in damages.  Fortunately, the storage company was more honorable than the moving company and paid their maximum insurance commitment of $3,000.  On that score I simply lost a lot as opposed to getting ass-raped. When I was younger I had a house and wanted to return to school.  Major downsizing was required to move into an efficiency apartment better suited for my work/study situation.  Since selling furniture and other stuff is virtually impossible, I gave away my entire home infrastructure, keeping only what was needed.  After graduation, I bought another house and rebuilt over the years.  Then I made the major boo-boo of marrying the Anti-Christ.  Part of that curse was the determination that her stuff was gold and my stuff was crap.  Since I didn’t have a say in the matter, I gave it all away again.  Once the Anti-Christ was through bleeding me dry I had to rebuild for a second time.  With the move to Texas, hell and be damned if I was going to let it go for a third time.  Oh, the irony!  It would have been easier and cheaper to keep my moving money, give all the clothes, furniture and other stuff away to charity for the tax deduction and start over again.  Or maybe just burn the house down.  Instead, I paid big bucks to have it trashed for me and am now living like a broke college student with crap furniture and hand-me-downs.  My TV is propped up on the remaining two pieces of my entertainment center, I only have a few clothes and my furniture reeks of mildew despite a thorough cleaning with bleach.  Of course, I still have a cool-ass chopper and an awesome car so that’s something.  Next step: buy another house.  Then, I’ll fill it up with nice stuff and hope like hell I never have to move again!
February 19, 2016
Want to contact Fat Max? email Fat Max ...
ORGANIZATION ORGANIZATION OWNERS OWNERS
Fat Max