Chapter Nine -- An Inconvenient Barrier

We're coming back from the human-powered vehicle race, in early April of 2001 (I told you these weren't in any particular order!). We're travelling in a large RV owned by MacGyver, and towing the vehicle in a trailer that belongs to the university. Aboard the RV are me, Mac, Third of Three, and our two athletes that we recruited to ride the thing in competition.

I should mention that the event rules required one male and one female driver for each vehicle. We didn't have any females in our group, and the Malaysians's girlfriends were too small, weak, and sissy, so we had to round up a female -- we ended up with a soccer player who was also an avid bike rider, which is pretty much ideal for a pedal-powered vehicle. A fellow engineering student who was into marathons and such thought the race sounded like fun, so we took him along as our male driver -- I could have done this job myself, but I was more into strength-training than endurance events, and I also figured there ought to be at least ONE aspect of this fiasco that I didn't have to handle personally!
Anyway, since these two were both Indian or something of that sort, I'm going to call them Mohinder and Shanti, because I saw every episode of "Heroes" and have a good memory for irrelevant details. :)

It's now dark, and we're on our way back after finishing the race and eating at a very nice truck stop along the way. This, incidentally, was the first time in several weeks that I'd had a proper appetite, since I had been so stressed-out for such a long time -- I ate a trucker-sized meal, then began eating everybody else's leftovers, then ate the basket of rolls while the others were finishing their coffee. This was the first time any of these people had ever seen me eat, and they naturally assumed I always ate like that, despite the fact that I only weighed about 160 at the time.

So Mac gets confused in the dark and unfamiliar city, and takes a wrong turn. We end up halfway into some warehouse driveway, with the trailer and tail of the RV sticking out into traffic. Our forward progress is blocked by some sort of barrier, which Mac is yelling at us to get moved before somebody zooms past and ruins the back of his RV. Third has already gone outside, while I'm hunting for my shoes. Mohinder and Shanti are apparently asleep.

I get my shoes on and hurry outside, confident that whatever is in our way will be too much for Third, and wondering if he's managed to get himself killed already. In the light of Mac's headlights, I see that we're being stopped by a heavy chain strung between two steel posts on either side of the driveway, and Third is standing at one of the posts, doing what he does best -- nothing. Passing cars are beeping and honking as they veer around the navigation hazard our RV and trailer present. I begin to wonder if Mac has any bolt-cutters, so we can remove whatever lock is holding the chain, or if we're going to have to unhook the trailer and drag it out of the way so Mac can try to jockey our 40-foot behemoth out of the traffic flow.

Reaching the post next to Third, I see we're in luck -- the only thing holding the chain is a bolt protruding from the post. One link of the chain is simply hooked over the bolt, held in place only by gravity. Vaguely wondering whether Third is truly too stupid to unravel this puzzle or simply too weak to deal with it, I grab the chain, pull a foot or so of slack from the caternary curve it makes as it hangs there, and slip the link off the bolt. The chain hits the concrete and Mac pulls the RV forward, as I grab Third to keep him from stepping in front of it and getting crushed. Yeah, I know.... I guess it was reflex.

As we watch Mac turning the RV and trailer around in the parking lot, Third looks at me as if I had just untied the Gordian knot with one hand while wearing boxing gloves. "How did you do that?" he asks.