Here's my essay about replacing the mattress in the upper bunk of the truck. Thought you folks might enjoy it.
When I bought my 770, I was loath to give up the nice work station that Volvo
engineered so nicely. I enjoy sitting at the table and eating like a civilized human. So, I decided I would sleep up in the top bunk. It's got a nifty little ladder to climb up there that's attached to the cabinet, so it would be easy. However, the one inch thick miserable excuse for a mattress had to go. I went to the local mattress store, and purchased a standard twin mattress. I took some measurements and cut a sheet of plywood
to fit the framework of the top bunk. The neato suspension fabric
butt-bridge hammock wasn't going to cut it.I had to install the plywood
in two pieces, so it would fit in the door.
Next came the mattress. I exhausted all the air in the passenger seat, opened the door all the way, and eased 'er in the cab, angling the end in an upward trajectory towards the final destination
of the modified hammock in a frame.
All went well, until the mattress needed to be squeezed past the top cabinetry. I clambered into the cab, positioned myself under the mattress, and attempted to force it into compliance.
Right. It just snickered at me.
Okay, I'll try the ol' 'bear-hug', and kinda fold it up and then stuff it into the home hole.
Just a little more.....
By this time, my arm muscles are starting to issue warnings of impending failure. A burning sensation is coursing from my fingertips to my mid-back. I can't breathe, because my face is buried in the mattress. Spots begin forming before my eyes.
Suddenly, my adversary makes his move, forcing my now numb arms apart, flinging me against the cabinets.
I pause, reconsidering the options. I could remove one of the cabinets, thus clearing the way for a better angle. But, that would involve unloading the contents, and quite frankly, I'm not sure exactly what resides in there. Besides, no inanimate object is going to toss ME around! I recalculate my method, and grab ahold of The Adversary again....
My wife says she thought the WWF was having a cage match inside the truck. It rocked starboard to port, and back again. The air bags began deflating, squirting air out and scaring the cats who were by this time most enthralled with the spectacle. Muffled cries were heard from inside, as The Adversary applied every known wrestling hold to my fast weakening body. It flung me fore and aft. Up and down. I barely managed to get my shoulders off the carpet before the three count, several times.
Then, in a final effort, I picked The Adversary up, did an abreviated Airplane Spin, faked a Step-over Toe Hold, then flowed smoothly into a Figure 4 Leglock. Success!
Only one problem.
The Adversary was in place, all right. But I was under it on my back, with my legs dangling uselessly into space, five feet off the floor.
Twenty minutes and multiple contusions and sprains later, I emerged victorious. My hair hung down in my face, plastered there by sweat. My medium-good shirt was now my 'work in the yard' shirt. Glasses were twisted into an odd shape resembling a Sanskrit letter. Now I know why an "S" shaped arch is called an "ogee".
The wife is sitting on the front porch, watching as I emerge.
"Did'ja get 'er done?" she snickers.
"Yea, but it was a pretty even match."
"I thought I was gonna have to call the para-medics with the 'jaws -of-life' for you. I had 911 dialed. Just needed to press 'send'."
Well, I could've used some help, you know."
"Yes, but that would have given you an unfair advantage. This was slated as a solo match, not a tag-team. Besides, I would have just been in the way. I reckoned that moral support was the better option. Plus, it was safer and more fun."
The mattress is just a bit short of filling the width of the cab. I compensated by rolling two extra wool GI blankets up and stuffing them in at the foot of the bed. Besides, an extra blanket comes in handy sometimes.