So my mom decided to sell her house, but she’d always promised she’d get the boulder out of her front yard. It was an eyesore, but she couldn’t handle it herself. I was still in college, so on a long weekend, I loaded all the guys I could in my car, drove the 11 hours home. We borrowed a truck, backed it right up, and tried to lift it. We couldn’t move it.
So I called in all the old high school friends I could reach. It still wouldn’t budge.
So we get scientific, try to wedge a metal beam from the garage under it, and slip an old tool chest in as a fulcrum, hoping to pry it loose. The beam bends, and the tool chest actually snaps.
By now, it’s been a few hours, most of the group is ready to give up, and the pizza and drinks I’d offered and running out, when I see Nate pull in next door. He was our neighbor’s son, rarely showed up to visit her, but felt like a godsend at that moment.
I convinced myself one more man would make a difference, which seems a little less crazy when you know Nate. He’s 6’8", and pure muscle. He holds back when shaking hands so he doesn’t hurt people, and still feels like he’s going to crush you hand. He grabbed me by the arm to pull me out of the way of a speeding car once, and they had to put the arm in a cast, because his grip broke it. Saved my life at least. Plus, Nate is a landscaper, and I figured he might have trick to help us.
So I thought with everyone and Nate, we got this. I ask Nate for help with the boulder, start waving everyone else over. Only Nate doesn’t wait for us. He just grabs the boulder and pops it up into the truck.
And that’s how I learned a valuable lesson: better Nate than lever.