Tag Archives: baan tawai

ballet flats and truck beds

Today I borrowed a truck with a “Carryboy,” a hood on the back, to pick up a piece of furniture from a village known for its furniture and handicrafts. I’d discovered yesterday that the Toyota Soluna I have been using is not large enough to accommodate my purchase – a coat/purse/umbrella rack.

After making the long trek to the south side of town, I found that the back hood wouldn’t open. The shop owner and I pulled and pulled to no avail.

I debated whether I could fit through the small window from the cab into the truck bed.

“I think I can fit,” a young Thai girl says, appearing from another shop. She probably weighs 90 pounds soaking wet and is around 5’2.”

“Oh? Really? Do you mind?”

“No, not at all!”

Thai people are SO helpful and friendly.

Sure enough, she was able to maneuver through the window. With more pulling and prodding, she was able to pop the lock with the aid of another shopkeeper who came to help pull from the outside.

We had to leave the back door open because I wouldn’t be able to open it once I arrived at home.

“Drive slowly,” they told me.

After thanking them all profusely, I headed to a friend’s house to pick up to items I’d purchased from them.

When I opened the door to the back seat, I see a pair of size 5, cream-colored ballet flats that perfectly matched my rescuer’s dress (yes, she offered to crawl through in a cream-colored dress)

My new friend is now walking around barefoot.

Thankfully, I had the business card of the shop owner. I called and explained I had the shoes of the girl who helped. She said I could bring them by whenever – now or later. I decided to return, even though it was a bit of a trek back out, because my house is on the complete opposite side of town.

I slowly chug along, in a truck that is as old as I am, with an office chair and wooden coat/purse rack in the back. I stop on the side of the highway to make sure my rack and chair are OK and get mud on my khaki pants.

I arrive back at the shop to find everyone gone. I call again and explain that I’ll leave the shoes at the shop two doors down on a carved tree stump sitting next to a wooden elephant and stone Buddha.

I had a mental picture of the girl driving her motorbike home, barefoot. Poor thing!

I raced the rain back home, praying it wouldn’t since the back hood was open. I managed to pull in to my carport before the rain.

Welcome to a day in the life of Tessa. There is never a dull moment.

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