Long day yesterday with my son in the emergency room—badly broken ankle from early morning wandering around with his friends in town. At dusk on the way back, I spotted this truckful of girls. Technically a horrible photo, but then it captures what I wanted. Obviously enjoying themselves!
in the back of a 1950s truck. ‘Twas a notably hot day; fortunately rain came later to break the heat.
Anticipating holiday guests, a friend asked me to arrange transport (a flete) for her stuff, filling the guest space, to another friend’s shipping container in the country. With a local reference, I produced a hard-working driver with an ancient truck that did not inspire confidence.
But it worked just fine. The second of two trips. Truck: 1954 Commer.
Consumer goods in Uruguay tend to be shoddy, so bringing decent things when you move here makes sense. Linens and towels. Clothing. Hand tools, even comfortable chairs and a couch. Still, I marvel (sometimes poetically) at the quantity of stuff people feel the need to import.
Or perhaps I should say, feel the need to possess.
The 40′ container is now perhaps 60% full. Of unused stuff.