Last week I had an eventful experience while tasked with towing a trailer full of sailing gear up to Santa Barbara.
I was introduced to an Aussie friend of a friend James who had just arrived in LA via his yacht business. James was based at Marina Del Ray for a couple of weeks and was responsible for getting the sleek Farr40 racing yacht ready for its wealthy owner to compete in number of regattas up and down the California coast. I said I would be keen for some cash work so Monday morning I arrived bright and early at the docks just near my house. We spent a couple of days in the sun getting the boat prepared. Unpacking sails, loading removing old branding to the trailer, scrubbing the deck and loading the boat for its journey up to Santa Barbara for the regatta the following week. It was pretty menial labour of which I hadn't done for some time but it was nice to be outside and be involved.
On the Wednesday the plan was for James and his first mate Kieran sail the boat up on its 10 hour journey to Santa Barbara, while I would transport the trailer full of gear via the Pacific Coast Highway. This was not just any old trailer - at 20 feet it more a horse float, complete with shelves for the sails, a work bench and desk. We spent the morning finding a suitable truck to tow it, getting groceries and calling into the bank. It was midday by the times James. Before he left he asked 'You have driven a truck towing a trailer before haven't you?'. Ummm....
Now I'm not the most practical man. Sure I can play the guitar, rig a sound system and cook for a dinner party but when it comes to hands on nuts and bolts I haven't had that much time at the crease. Even at my music festivals I stay clear of any hands-on leaving this to more experienced event operators and contractors. But hey driving is pretty straight. 'Just go wide on the corners. And take your time!' was the last thing James said as he began his journey about midday.
I spent then next few hours of the day running around doing some final jobs. I had to go down to Long Beach to pick up some sails. I asked the sail maker if there was anywhere to grab some lunch. He suggested the deli around the corner Santa Fe Importers. The place was packed as I entered, with a line that curled around the store. I asked grumpy, italian guy at the counter what he recommended and he suggested the hot meatball sub.
Santa Fe Importers
On my way back I grabbed a trailer adaptor from a motor stor in a city Hawthorne which was adjacent to the Marina. It had a quaint, middle america feel, but with dollar stores and industrial building supplies next to disused clothing outlet stores. It felt like LA used to be your could say. Not quite deepest darkest Compton or Inglewood but felt like not the kind of place you would want to be after dark. Still I found my adaptor, another tick off the list.
I arrived back at the ship yard with a full belly and a spring in my step ready for the challenge ahead Some of the staff at the shipyard helped me get the trailer on. It certainly was heavy and weighed down. It took a fair bit of grunt from my truck to get momentum and the trailer bounced to attention, following my lead through the boat yard amongst the shiny, berths.
I set off on my adventure. Getting to the turn off on to the entry onto the PCH. I took the corner wide as I recall James suggesting, hugging the curb as I came into the entry. Perfect.
Bang! I heard a loud noise as the trailer jolted and bounced behind me. I feared straight away I had a flatty. The trailer wobbled to the side as I began heading down the hill towards PCH. Traffic wizzed by me as I slowed up to prevent any further. Luckily in front of me I saw a clear stretch of pavement where four or so carparks were tucked in front of an apartment block. I pulled up to the short and straddled the truck and trailer on the curb, leaving just enough room to get back on the road if I needed to. I flicked on the hazards lights and dismounted to survey the damage. Yup sure enough the tyre was gone, along with a slight kink in the wheel. I must have hit the curb.
I looked at my watch. 4pm. It was about an hour until rush hour started. Was there a spare tyre in the trailer? If there was it would be buried deep amongst all the sailing gear. Roadside assistance? Pretty sure I had registered for some on my car policy. I tried to call my insurance broker but the call kept dropping, due to being tucked in under the hill. My heart was pounding at all the decisions I was trying to make. And I had about an hour until rush hour started. The traffic would pick up and the tenants of the apartment block would soon be home. My phone was on 18% battery and I couldn't get reception where I could charge it in the truck. Fck!
I thought I better let James know. I ran up the hill to better reception and luckily got hold of him out on the boat. He confirmed there was no spare tyre in the trailer. Being the cool calm experienced man her suggested the idea of getting to a safer place. I knew the stretch of PCH in front of me was about 1 or 2 kilometers or so before I hit any real service center at the Pacific Palisades. I did of course have one tire in tact. I tried my luck getting both beasts off the curb and got back on the entry towards to the motorway. I began hobbling down PCH. Every now and then the trailer would wobble, and make a hell of a noise. I almost expect an axel to drop and hit the road any minute. Cars beeped as the sped past me, some drivers yelling obscenities for holding up the traffic. Up ahead of me the road was narrowing as summer road works were taking place.
Finally I saw the service center up in front of me. The forecourt was small and busy, packed with cars lineup for the pumps. Not ideal for a truck carrying a handicapped trailer. In an almost last gasp I pulled up on the curb directly outside the petrol station. To close it seems as the wheels jimmies up against the curb. A stunning woman in a black Audi stared down her moviestar-like nose as I bounded out of the truck to see just how close I was to to the curb. I was soon on the phone to track down my insurance broker and thus roadside assistance.
In the meantime a middle aged surfer man pulled into the forecourt and offered to help. Not unlike a weathered Donavan Frankenreiter, this Tom guy was a deadset California legend. He had seen me trundling down PCH and thought I was a comendable, brave man for trying to get clear of highway traffic. Most people he said would've just parked up on the side of the road, blocking incoming traffic and call for roadside assistance. Well I would too if I could have got hold of them! He helped me survey the dented wheel and gave me his advice. He had a jack and suggested we could set the trailer free and find a new tire. Easier said than done as I tried to shimmy the trailer away from the curb as cars flew at breakneck speeds next to me. The edge of the trailer dragged along as my nose stuck out to on coming traffic. Now I had a new problem.
A mexican man at the pump saw my failed attempts to pull the trailer (note. with a flattie) away from the curb and offered his services. He seemed excited by the challenge. 'I do zis for a living maaaan!' he said, rubbing his hands together. Him and Donavan communicated like basketball strategists in dragging the trailer out while I kept on the phone to roadside assistance. Finally got hold of them and they said I would need a destination before they would send a tow truck. I called my mechanic who gave me a couple of tyre mechanics to try. Given it was now 5pm I was put on hold, or told the wheels were too big. Calling James again he suggested I park it around the corner. There surely was no way I would find a stray park for a Ford Truck and a 20 ft trailer in the swanky neighbourhoods of the Pacific Palisades!
My only option would be to tow it back to the ship yard where I had begun my journey. Tomorrow would be a new day, I could get a new wheel. James even had a sailor arriving who could attempt the delivery. I called the roadside back and said we would take it back to Marina Del Ray. 'Thank you sir we will get that underway. Please be aware it will be $350 and you will then have to make a claim back. Cash or Credit?'. Arrrrggggggg!
My mexican friend had however slowly inched the truck forward, and the wheel away from the curb. Cars continued to beep as we still held up one lane, the one turning right. He inched forward to the next free curb clear enough away to survey the damage. Sure enough the wheel was damaged and Donovan confirmed it would require a new wheel not just a new tyre. It was at this stage his wife was calling him home for dinner and he left me to it. What a dude. I was very grateful to have his moral and technical support.
I sat huddled in my truck ignoring the beeps and obscenities yelled by backed up traffic as I waited for the tow truck. With his little ute with a crane on the back there was no way he would be putting it on the back. But he was confident he could find a tyre though and after putting out a road cone out to warn passing traffic we headed back up the hill. He made a few calls but had the same issues as me - either being put on hold or told there was no way of getting a trailer tyre at this time of night.
We ended up back at the marina at a service center just as the place was closing! Argh. Luckily the security let us in and the manager found us the tyre we needed.
$230 later we were back down the hill, along the motorway the truck. I was half expecting it to be gone with the luck I was having. The towie changed the tire and all appeared to be solved. On inspection of the flat tyre we saw that one side was completely bald. Potentially a reason the trailer had slid out, or at least more prone to burst. The towie said I was lucky that it had burst when it did rather than on an open stretch of road and was not safe to be going long distances. This made me feel slightly better!
I woke up in the morning to a text from James saying he would need the truck to move the trailer. But on arrival it was already moved by the efficient spot. We were able to catch up have a quick recap laugh about the previous days turn of events.
It also showed me that no matter how comfortable you are, this city can turn on you in an instant and you need to be prepared for the worst. I was impressed by the assistance of Tom / Donavan Frankenreiter - who I was keeping in touch with and was able to thank for his assistance. The towie also was a legend helping my find a tire at that time of night. The mexican man disappeared into the dust without me getting to send a follow up thanks. So did the movie star lady in the Audi. James laughed off the incident, and fixed me up for the all the expenses incurred. 'It is what it is' he said. He was probably thankful that nothing serious happened under his remit - to the trailer and or his part time employee. With no contract, insurance, legal working permits for working in that industry, etc etc. I hate to think what could happen in the dark and murky world of the California State Law beaucracy.
Still I got the job done and returned in one piece. The transporter always delivers.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained!
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