One Man's Opus: A Survival and Preparedness Story by Craven III Boyd

Author:Craven III, Boyd
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2017-03-02T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

The drive to Oak Haven to pick up my supplies ended up being a lot of fun. I found out that Tina listened to just about any music, so I set out to find something obscure she hated. I was mostly stumped until I found Sean Hannity on the radio. I turned it off, hating politics in general myself, before she could finish making fake puking motions.

Opus rode in the middle, between the seats in the van, and waited there as we went into the store front. The aisles from the left to right had all kinds of products. Organic quinoa, oats, wheat, candies, literally a little bit of everything. The bulk spice section against the back right wall was enormous, but what really commanded attention was the huge countertop. It sat in the center of the storefront, with three terminals for people to come and order their supplies or pay for goods.

I walked there nervously and was greeted by a matronly woman with a large smile.

“Help you, dears?” she asked.

“Rick Carpenter, I called in an order…”

“Carpenter, yes. The boys just finished pulling that one earlier! You starting your own co-op?”

“Oh, uh, no ma’am. Just stocking up a little bit,” I told her.

Tina bumped into me and I looked at her. She had a questioning look on her face. I think in the two hours and forty-five minute drive out there I’d neglected to tell her what I was going for. Oops.

“Well, better late than never! But if you do decide to do a co-op, or want to split shipping costs, there are three families in your area that sometimes pool orders so they can get the free shipping.”

“Oh?” I asked, interested.

“Oh yes, can I share your email with them and they’ll get in contact?”

“That would be great,” I told her.

I paid the bill from an envelope; I’d withdrawn cash from the credit union and Tina gave me another strange look. Still, she kept her lip zipped.

“What size truck do you have dear?” The woman asked me as I was folding the receipt up to put in my pocket.

“One-ton cargo van,” I told her. “It used to have a wheelchair lift in it, so it’s got the heavy duty rear end shocks, springs, the works.”

“Oh, that sounds wonderful! I’ll have you pull up to the pickup door entrance to the warehouse across the driveway. Number 3 on the door. I’ll ring the boys and let them know you’re on your way over. It’s on pallets, but if you don’t have room for two pallets, we can hand load. Just let us know how we can help!”

“I should have room,” I told her with a grin. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Thank you, you and your wife have a blessed day!”

I gave her a little wave, a bit tongue-tied, and walked out toward the van.

“You didn’t tell her that we’re just friends,” Tina said.

I felt my cheeks flushing. Damn. I was hoping she would have let me off the hook for that one.

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