[This is from my BFF, Rallen. Even if you don't know me, her, or the situation... read this. It may teach you something.]
A rant for the ages...for me at least
I'll start by posing a question I already know the answer to. Have you ever felt like you were putting yourself out there to someone you know and trust, only to be taken advantage of? Well, I'll relate to your story with my own in the form of a moral anecdote. This is my alternative to an angry tirade.
When my husband and I got married, we were planning to move to Florida. We were strapped for cash (weddings are expensive) but we needed transportation for ourselves and our stuff. We couldn't afford a truck or even the rental cost of a U-Haul. Luckily, I knew that my uncle was in possession of a useful family novelty. My parents had owned this old Ford van that we had used as an RV of sorts when I was a kid. My uncle borrowed the van for awhile and eventually bought it from my dad. They traded it off frequently and one night, they realized some awesome potential in the brown beast of a beaner van. They toiled and put their hearts and souls into it's transformation. They hacked out the middle section, and after a few nights of welding and a bucket of bondo, the Tran was born. With a flatbed and smoke stacks, the ugly old van had morphed into a rednecks dream. It may not have been easy on the eyes but it was a proud workhorse just the same. From something that would be seen as little more than scrap metal to anyone outside our family, came a scrapbook on wheels, carrying on it's bed of two-by-fours a myriad of memories and a legacy that few would ever fathom. I knew it wasn't much but it was just what we needed to start on our journey to our new home. After a visit with my aunt and uncle, the Tran was ours. We loaded our gear, being careful to keep our valuables between the smokestacks and headed on our way.
Now some may laugh and some may cry but in doing so know this: The Tran may be worthless to anyone outside of the family, but to me, it's priceless. Continue your reading my friends.....
After a memorable and slightly romantic newlywed trip, we made it to Florida. Within two months though, I desired the company of my dear friend from back home (I'll call her Skinny from now on.) Her fiancé, who I'll call Private, was coming home from the military for awhile and she decided she wanted to get married in Florida. It seemed like a good idea for her to head down for a visit, so she did, with her beloved Private right beside her. We visited and then experienced the beautiful elope-tion of the soul mates. But all that glitters is not gold you see, as the star-crossed lovers soon would realize. I watched them gaze dumbfounded at one another when they realized that they had failed to budget there way home! Newly married and stranded at the home of their unfortunate witnesses, they decided to just stay another week and wait for magical funds to fall from the sky. When they discovered that this was unrealistic (or probably just figured it was taking too long) I came up with a solution: If the Tran had been my rite of passage, then it should be Skinny and Private's too! I loved them like family, and this new chapter could be beneficial to the Tran/family legacy. I wouldn't mind allowing a dear friend to add a page to our scrapbook on wheels. I didn't want to lose my family's prized flatbed permanently, though, so I drafted a contract. We'd get the Tran back in less then a month, having lent it to them until Thanksgiving. All parties involved John Hancocked that shit and then the lovebirds took off for Ft. Drum, (with a pit stop back home in Nicholasville of course.)
They hadn't even made it home when we received our first Tran/friendship destructing phone-call. Skinny informed me that the passenger window spontaneously burst! We all know that glass has the tendency to burst suddenly without provocation. Then, after they got home, the alternator belt broke, a common and quickly fixable problem. They "replaced" the belt and immediately they complained that the BRAND NEW alternator was bad. They had that replaced and went about their journey.
As time went on, my husband and I began to miss our beloved friend (the Tran that is) but Thanksgiving came quickly. We went home expecting to be reunited with our Tran but guess what! Skinny and Private never made it out of Nicholasville! We listened to there stories and plans and, since we didn't absolutely need the Tran yet, I offered for the dynamic duo to extend the lease until Christmas. They agreed and we departed once again, Tranless.
The month went on without word, and come Christmas, the husband and I were itching for some two-on-one time with the Tran. However, as luck would have it, they hadn't made any plans to return our property rightfully to us. I was pretty heated at this point but I wanted things to go as smoothly as possible. I texted my friend and asked about the Tran and when we could expect it back. She got very defensive and tried to justify the fact that, by this time, they had stolen my Tran! She said that they put 700 dollars into the thing, as if that makes it theirs! I apologized and reminded her that I had been afraid this would happen. I didn't think it was very fair for her to borrow my trusty hauling machine so long that I couldn't even use it. She argued without any firm stance for a while and then hung up, refusing to speak to me.
I called my mom, looking for some sound advice. She was already irritated at the whole ordeal. She, along with my father and aunt and uncle had been calling me to ask when I knew the Tran would be back. My father was close by through our conversation and he made a noteworthy point: I could call Privates commanding officer and, as the military doesn't take lightly to criminals, the Sergeant would see to my struggle for me. I Skinny with this information and immediately received a threatening phone call from Private. What did he expect me to do? Call the police? It all would end up in the same place anyhow! So he made arrangements with me. We would have the truck by January 15th!
To make an already ridiculously long story short, It is know February 19th. I've made repetitive attempts to reach the permeable pair over the past week and since I was honest in the text about what I needed to speak to them about, I can only assume as to why they suddenly won't answer. (Even though yesterday they called my husband's phone and when I answered they hung up and wouldn't answer my returned calls.)
Now the sedulous soul mates have given me no choice but to hold them accountable for this thievery. I have notified authorities who are able to hold this accountability at Private's base. I can't apologize for things having gotten to this extreme. I tried repetitively to prevent it. But I can help others learn from my mistakes.
I said this was a moral anecdote and I wouldn't let you leave without a moral: If your instinct tells you to draft a contract to do a favor for a dear friend, DON'T do the favor.