Things went a lot better at Cavart today. The forklift started right up and smiled upon me despite my ignorance of her complex transmission. It was a chess game, getting the 3 m stock for knee braces loaded flat, then the 6, rafter beams loaded diagonally. Never used a forklift before but tried to imitate those many Manly Men I've watched over the years, considering carefully every gesture as though it could be my last or maybe the end of Robert's beautiful truck. There was a low telephone line to duck under. I tried a change of venue to the wide dooryard in front of the shop, but like a Labrador trying to bring a 4' stick through a 3' door, I got stuck aganst a tree.
The load looked chancey to me, but you see guys all the time driving around with these huge loads angled, held on by wide web straps. I never liked driving behind them and on the kept having fantasies of squashing the little camionette that followed me up the steep roads between Montcabrier and Cazes.
Robert said it looked fine and later drove off to Gavaudon like it was nothing.
