Getting Potatoes

he APU was officially dead. Not sputtering, not coughing — dead. And because we had an energy‑efficient truck with a strict no‑idle rule, that meant no heat. It was seven degrees outside. Seven.

We were freezing.

Van finally started the truck and drove in circles around the yard at 2:30 in the morning just to keep us warm. The truck would only stay running if it was moving. If it stopped, it shut down in five minutes.

So there we were, doing laps in the dark like two lunatics in a diesel‑powered merry‑go‑round. But the cab warmed up, and Van crawled back into bed. What a beginning to our grand adventure.

In the morning, Van started the truck so I could make coffee. Just as the last gurgle of hot water went through the filter… the truck died. Right on schedule.

We got permission to take the truck in for an APU filter change. One hour and $300 later (their money, not ours), we were back on the road.

This time we were headed to San Luis, Colorado to pick up bulk potatoes. Bulk. In a box trailer. We had no idea how that was going to work, but apparently we were about to find out.

The guy gave us directions — and fair warning:

“Get a biiiiig piece of paper.”

He wasn’t kidding.

The directions, exactly as given:

• Take 285 to Romeo, Colorado

• Turn right on 142

• Go 22 miles to San Acacio

• Turn left on County Road 12N

• Left on County Road X (No markings. None. Not even a suggestion of a sign.)

Ten miles later we were passing roads AA, BB, CC, DD… So we stopped and called again.

“Remember the house with the blue roof?” he said. “You mean ten miles back?” “Yup, that’s the one.”

Sure. We’ll just make a U‑turn on a two‑lane dirt road with a 53‑foot trailer. No problem.

Van backed into a dirt lane to turn around. He said, “Don’t mention the mailbox.” We didn’t knock it down — just scraped it. It was still standing. Mostly.

Take two:

• Right on CR X (at the blue‑roof house)

• Right on CR 10

• Left on CR Z

• Go 2½ miles

And there it was — the potato operation.

A truck came in from the field, and a conveyor belt pulled the potatoes off. They shook the dirt off, rolled them onto another belt, shook them again, and sent the dirt onto a different truck. Then a giant tube gently dropped the potatoes into our trailer, which was lined with plastic like a giant potato bathtub.

We had to wash our hands before touching the product. As if we were going to touch anything. Sure, okay.

One man motioned for Van to pull forward four different times as they loaded. They only filled it about five feet deep — potatoes are heavy. We weighed in at 79,100 pounds. Legal limit is 80,000. Perfect.

They shut the doors, slapped a seal on it, and sent us on our way.

But the real question was: How do you unload a trailer full of loose potatoes?

Simple.

You back into a steep pit, they flood the trailer with water, and the potatoes float right out the back like tiny, bobbing escape artist