Post #226630 by Sabu The Coconut Boy on Thu, Apr 13, 2006 6:15 PM

Ok, Here's my pathetic log story that will probably make some of you veterans chuckle.

Two weekends ago, I get home late Saturday night and find a PM from Polynesiac letting me know that the local Target just a mile or so from my house has cut down all their Mexican Fan Palms. The logs are just lying there and he wanted to know if we could use my truck to grab a few logs. Being the stand-up guy that he is, he says he's willing to help me move a few for myself if I'd like. We should move fast since the tree-trimmers will probably pick them up on Monday.

I look at my clock. Midnight. Too late to call Polynesiac, but the perfect time for some log-rustling on my own I think to myself. I might as well go pick up a couple logs for me, right now. That way on Sunday any logs that we get together can go straight to Polynesiac's home.

I put on a jacket, get some gloves, and drive my truck over to the Target parking lot. Sure enough, there are logs lying everywhere. I spot a six-footer about two-feet in diameter. That's the log I want! I pull the back of my truck right up to the log and get out, put my gloves on and get a good grip on that palm. Bending at the knees I heave with all of my might and... move it about six inches. Puzzled, I scratch my head. I've lifted the end of an old vintage palm tiki that had fallen at an apartment building and didn't have any problems at all. Suddenly it dawns on me that these logs are wet. They've just been cut down a day or two before and they must be full of water. I realize that I was far too cocky and now I get a low-grade feeling of panic as I look at the rest of the logs around me. Will I be able to move any of them?

Lowering my sights, I pick a 12"-diameter log just over six feet. Lifting one end with a lot of exertion, I manage to prop it on another log, at a good angle to wedge my truck tailgate under the high edge. Once that's done, I walk around to the other end of the log, grip it good, and give it as huge a heave as hard as I can, using all my strength. It moves about 4 more inches onto my tailgate. A few more massive heaves inch it further and further up. By now I'm covered with sweat and palm dust and panting like a dying man.

Another heave and the log rolls off my tailgate and thuds back onto the asphalt. I shake my head numbly. I realize I am in way over my head. But instead of giving up until tomorrow, I get this typical male feeling of dogged stubborn-ness. I am not leaving the parking lot without that log. I start the process all over again, first propping one log onto the other, etc. and about 15 minutes later, the log slides all the way into the bed of my truck with a satisfying thunk.

For my next log I decide on a five-footer about 12" in diameter as well. What a difference that single foot in length made! I was able to manhandle this log much easier into the back of my truck. One minute tops. I then decided that two logs for the evening was plenty for me and drove them home. I now have a lot more respect for you carvers. Those suckers are heavy!

The next night, Polynesiac and I moved several more logs over to his house. From now on I'm always going to get help when moving medium to large-size logs. Two men made all the difference.

Sabu