BOX TRUCK

It Could Always be Worse

2011-12-30T19:24:00.001-05:00

From time to time, you're reminded that your day wasn't that bad.

The Day the Art was Bigger Than Us

2011-12-03T16:34:00.003-05:00

Some days the tasks are too big for one truck. Those are the mornings when you take an extra long draw of your coffee, put on your gloves and give your fellow trucker a knowing stare. The stare that says: 'we're fucked'.

Image courtesy of @CntHrMyEys

JESUS H. CHRIST GET OUT OF THE WAY!

2011-11-07T00:48:00.003-05:00

LAS VEGAS -> LOS ANGELES via I-15

Blurry Photo/Actual Proof of other uses for spray foam.

2011-10-20T17:53:00.002-04:00

Bayshore, Long Island 10.18.11

The Day the Sun Shit

2011-10-07T09:54:00.001-04:00

The sunshine ran down our windshield and pooled on the blade.

Where you at?

2011-10-07T09:51:00.001-04:00

Sometimes not even the satellites know....and rarely do we.

The Road on top of the Road

2011-08-26T21:47:00.004-04:00

Sometimes the road doubles, from side to side, and rarely atop of itself. Don't get on as it won't stop till the cargo that you're shotgunning with gets to where it needs to be. Even when it's just five lone planks of wood, ill strapped down; you're just along for the ride.

The Never Ending Road...

2011-08-14T16:54:00.002-04:00

... stretches forward and back; but rarely side to side: a constant one point perspective existence.

This Is How We Work in New York City

2011-07-22T14:53:00.003-04:00

Clean the road and then paint it? No time, ain't my job! These lines need laying.....

Hello, this is Big Jobs Only

2011-07-12T11:57:00.002-04:00

Mid Town Paris Bender

2011-07-09T20:20:00.002-04:00

The heat of the city causes craziness to happen: men dressed in full pink, undercover cops plowing fatso's into newspaper boxes and sometimes it all just melts. Right before your eyes.

Stay Gold Pony Boy

2011-06-29T21:28:00.003-04:00

Déjà vu at the Small Red Sea of Unknown Orgin

2011-06-26T13:14:00.003-04:00

Some times the truck just bleeds.

Enter the Void

2011-06-19T13:08:00.003-04:00

A tear in the time fabric or maybe even a commercial black hole opened up at JFK: we all jumped in and were never heard from again - until the next start time.

Oaxaca Gold

2011-06-02T18:23:00.000-04:00

We Buy Anything

2011-06-02T18:21:00.001-04:00

Steady VIZZIN...

2011-05-18T21:16:00.004-04:00

...VIZZIN Steady

2011-05-18T21:12:00.007-04:00

Old Comrade

2011-05-18T21:08:00.003-04:00

I AM A TRUE AMERICAN!

2011-05-14T10:46:00.003-04:00

Not sure if this image is circa 1991 or circa 2002...shit...circa 1776? Looks like one long ass ongoing 234 year war to me.....guess one can't cherry pick your country's conflict pride so salute them all - at once, in one amazing airbrushed montage.

Day Dreaming Part 3

2011-05-14T10:42:00.004-04:00

Another day on the trucks, another day staring at the endless road: coming and going.

Day Dreaming Part 2

2011-05-14T10:40:00.002-04:00

The all white Boss Hog watches over Greenpoint Ave, Monday through Friday, 9 to 5.

Princeton Thesis

2011-04-30T11:22:00.004-04:00

This is the piece of paper I am handed by my coworker and Jersey sandwich specialist who must remain with sketchily parked truck. The "Mac Daddy" is 2 bacon cheeseburgers, french fries, and about a half dozen 'mac n' cheese wedges' served on a standard arm length Hoagie Haven bread trough. They fucking sprayed the hot sauce on this thing, the way you piss on a pile of garbage. Apparently the sandwich is great. ("R.B." is, of course, Red Bull and not Root Beer.)

Day Dreaming

2011-04-21T18:23:00.000-04:00

Oversized Schleppers

2011-04-21T18:20:00.001-04:00

Big City, Big Boat

2011-04-21T18:18:00.000-04:00

It's called Park Ave -- not Dock Ave!

That's Mad Deep Yo

2011-04-20T20:55:00.001-04:00

Work In Progress

2011-04-20T00:05:00.003-04:00

Sharing A Body Bag

2011-04-18T08:39:00.003-04:00

Full Italian hoagie w/ prov cheese steak, eggs, hot sauce, hot peppers, & a hash brown.

9 ft Pete

2011-04-06T19:21:00.001-04:00

Another unsung hero of the job - we thank you Nine Feet Pete.

This Is What We Eat

2011-04-04T21:57:00.005-04:00

The roads are bumpy, the hours are irregular, and the crates are at times very heavy; but the one thing that makes you smile each morning is the promise of a warm meal at lunch. From the Rutgers Grease Trucks on College Avenue to the fish-n-chips of the Berkshires to the New Jersey sliders and fries of White Manna v. White Mana, and of course the Medford, NY urban legend of a sandwich known simply as the "Human Head". Well...it ain't no legend, it's real. Exit 64 off the LIE, Angora Food Market, order one and you won't leave hungry.

24 Hour Blue

2011-04-01T09:01:00.000-04:00

F**k Diesel

2011-03-18T10:49:00.003-04:00

Love Was A Trucker's Horizon Line

2011-03-18T08:22:00.001-04:00

Wednesday Morning Shit Shower Supreme

2011-03-16T21:27:00.003-04:00

Mayhem in A.M.

Urine Sample Please

2011-03-16T21:26:00.000-04:00

Tradesmen to the Rear!

2011-03-16T18:48:00.001-04:00

This Is How We Do It

2011-03-14T11:55:00.003-04:00

You know two things that blow? Driving around in traffic, and moving things in and out of apartments. That’s the basic job description for this New York City truck delivery guy. Oh, eating rich people’s shit blows too. Our hero here spends a lot of his time doing that since he primarily moves valuable artwork around the city. Sucks to be him, right? Well, at least it’s in “The Business.” Sort of. He’d rather be making the art than carrying it on his back, but wouldn’t we all?
—

STREET CARNAGE: What is the name of your job?

TRUCK DRIVER / ART MOVER: On my taxes, I write “Truck Driver / Art Handler.” But in reality, I’m a “Box Trucker / Shit Eater.”

What do actually spend most of your time doing?

An “average” day sorta doesn’t exist. There are similar days, I guess, but the gig varies so much that it’s just a big blur, with some choice remembered moments and situations. There’s no set start time, so the day starts anywhere from 6 A.M. to 9 A.M., and if you’re more than ten minutes late, you catch heat from the dispatcher because the day has multiple scheduled pick-ups and deliveries. Sometimes you get to know where you are going the evening before but most of the time you walk in the door nine minutes late, punch the clock, take a look at your manifest and just say, “Fuuuuck.”

After reviewing your list of loading docks, freight elevators, rich pricks and cute gallery girls, you throw whatever the hell they call “Art” nowadays in the back of the truck and twerk on out into the hustlefuck traffic of New York City.

Half the day is spent in the truck. It’s the size of a Soviet space pod, it’s got GPS, the speakers are blown out and you eat two, sometimes three meals in it each day. It’s you and one other trucker from a pool of about six truckers, so who you work with varies. You split all the duties down the middle, and try to keep each other from spacing out and running over pedestrians. There’s usually some really great conversation involved.

The other half of the day is spent inside galleries, artist studios, warehouses, actual houses, apartment buildings, loading docks, elevators and restrooms. You carry crates and boxes and paintings up and down, to and fro and schlep your back out. The days are 7 to 13 hours long and ends whenever it ends. Then it’s back into the warehouse, throw the art off the truck, punch out and go get your two pints.

What sorts of things do you deliver? How do people get in touch with you for a job?

From the mediocre to the priceless. It’s not uncommon to be in some ultra-posh locale and soft-pack a painting that you studied in school textbooks. People are so wealthy that sometimes they just have these pieces stashed in a closet. Fuckers don’t tip, either.

Jobs are thrown at us by our dispatcher, who is in a ceaseless state of acute stress. I find out about a job or client the morning of.

So it’s only art that you deliver / pick up? Have you ever done any other type of moving?

Just art and sculpture, sometimes some design chairs. But technically we do move furniture around penthouses and mansions so we can safely get the art re-hung without breaking some “exquisite” vase or some bullshit. It’s alarming how anal the wealthy are about replacing what you moved around their apartment. If you have to move, say, a small wet bar, you need to take a picture of it beforehand to guarantee that you put the bottles and shakers back in the exact same position before you moved them. I’ve gotten very good at looking for divots in rugs and carpets where chairs and couches sat.

Are the individually wealthy the most abusive people that you work with or are corporations worse?

[I work with] institutions, galleries and collectors/private owners, sometimes corporations. Institutions and foundations are usually cool because you see their people often, but they are filled with the uptight rigmarole of bureaucracy. They get on your back about how to handle the work and have silly rules to follow.

Corporations aren’t bad, actually, because they are fluorescent and soulless and no one knows how to safely climb a ladder, literally. I love walking through a corporate office with my Hi-Vis cap and prescription sunglasses on while covered in dirty denim, dragging a tool bag. Real life is in the house, bitches!

The wealthy are, by far, the most abusive. Upon meeting, the first question I ask a wealthy person is “May I use your restroom?” Depending on their hesitance, body language and which restroom they allow me use, I basically can judge their entire character off of that. One lady looked me up and down this one time and said, “Maybe.” I almost told her I could piss in her yard instead, like a dog. There’s a famous rumor of a profoundly rich and famous couple removing a toilet that a tradesman sat on. They view you as a second-class citizen-servant, who has to enter their building through the back. Just last week, a doorman told me, “You are not allowed in that elevator. You must use other elevator. That elevator is only for tenants and their dogs.” I wanted to piss in it.

Come on.

The wealthy are not on the same wavelength as common folk, period. All those hours swimming through the money bin has fucked with their reality. I was a classist before this job, ever since I cleaned pools around Princeton and first read The Grapes of Wrath, but if I work a service job like this any longer, I’m about to get militant up in this bitch. However, there are wealthy dudes who came from nothing and are riding high on the hog and respect you as a person and they cut you off some of the bacon because they know what its like to earn a paycheck. Not all of the wealthy are evil — just like 97% of them.

You get to see a lot of the city that people probably take for granted, right? What are some of the most interesting things you’ve come across on the job in terms of beauty/disgust?

Yes, I see a lot of the city — and from a viewpoint above eye level — when bouncing along in the truck. A lot of peds, a lot of Hi-Vis, a lot of skirts and tight jeans. People watching should be appreciated as art in itself. You can see some business jerk dressed to the nines in his turquoise Hummer and find him disgusting, but then see some crazy street guy dressed like a rainbow and think him beautiful.

I also see a lot of neighborhoods and, this being New York, it sometimes feel like a trip around the world in a day because neighborhoods reflect their people. I go from the richest through the poorest to the loudest and the proudest and back again, and meet people of all colors and stations in life… the human condition. I also eat lunch all over the place, so I get to taste it too.

Have you ever worked in another city? Is NYC really a special little snowflake?

Nope, been to Philly though — it’s no New York, haters.

New York is indeed a special little snowflake, but one taken from a mound of frozen black street slush. There’s no other city that has so much art and so many people willing to pay for it, work for it, take advantage of it, in such a small area. The traffic here is ridiculous and eccentric, but it has a positive box truck vibe, too. Positive as hell. Box truckers have an unspoken code of “This gig sucks, let’s help each other out,” unlike cabbies, who eat each other like the feral dogs they are. Those guys are loyal only to their wad of cash. Keep in mind that not all cabbies are bastards, just like, 97% of them.

Is this something that you ever envisioned yourself doing as a career? Is there something else you’d rather be doing?

No, hell no. Let’s get one thing straight: This is no career. This is a job. With careers, I believe there is always room for growth, learning and self-development. In this job you peak out about two years in. So does the lousy-ass pay. Ten years ago I never thought I’d have anything to do with the art world. I used to pump gas and clean pools, and was pressured to follow in my father’s footsteps to get a job at the oil refinery where he worked. It required a lifetime commitment and a piss test, so I fucked around in community college for years instead, trying to figure out what I wanted to do. The only reason I went to art school is because I took a painting course for the hell of it and the fine arts dean told me I “needed” to go. So I transferred to a school in the city, got my worthless BFA and Yay! Now I have one of the lowest blue-collar jobs in the art world.

I’d rather be doing something creative, sculpture, writing, whatever. I want to be earning my money independently. That is, I don’t want to eat someone else’s shit, and more importantly, not have anyone else eat mine. That is very, very important to me. I don’t want to earn money off of another person’s sweat, unless I can provide them an above-average wage and maybe even benefits. If I could make $50,000 a year doing something by myself, or by employing people and improving their standard of living, I’d rather do that than make $500,000 as an exploitative taskmaster.

Another thing, I need to finally have a job that doesn’t require any manual labor, because I have degenerative disc disease and my lower back is blown out like a bike tube. The lower three discs in my spine are super-herniated and not a day goes by that I’m not in some form of pain and / or discomfort.

Yikes, that probably doesn’t help carrying shit up stairs. What sorts of other dangerous situations do you find yourself in? Have you ever seen anyone break their leg carrying something heavy or fall off a ladder or anything?

Traffic. That’s dangerous as hell right there. Trucking itself is one of the top ten most dangerous jobs in America. The closest I ever came to death was when an associate trucker backed into a loading dock by putting the truck in neutral and letting the truck roll down the gradation leading to the dock, instead of turning on the engine, putting it in reverse with the BEEP BEEP BEEP — which is the smart, safe thing to do. I didn’t think he was backing in so I walked behind the truck to correct a problem with the back door, and he starts coasting in. A worker on the dock saw that I was about to have my ribcage decimated and yelled at the driver to stop, leaving less than two feet of room for me to get out from. I asked the guy if he realized he almost killed he and all he had to say was, “There’s a lot of close calls on this job.” I wanted to strangle him.

What about robbery, how much of a role does the potential for that play in your job?

Now and then we have something valued at such a ludicrous amount of money that we have armed ex-cops who tail us in their own car. Or we have an ex-Israeli Special Forces vet ride with us in the cab of the truck. But if we ever were held up it would be like, “Okeydoke guys, here’s the keys, godspeed and good luck to yous, wish I could come along.” This ain’t The Train, we’re not hauling “the pride of France” — it’s some rich fucker’s bullshit and I’m not risking my life for it in the slightest. However, it would be pretty rad if we got held up with one of the Israeli dudes in the truck and got to watch him pull out some sweet Krav Maga moves.

The White Whale

2011-03-07T21:16:00.016-05:00

Call me Ahab. While trucking through the cavernous pit of vagrancy that is E16th street with me mate--one Queequeg Maloosh-- in search of a humble parking space to stow our vessel so that we may ferry our cargo gallery bound, we were snaked and hornswoggled by a sausage-fingered fuck of a greed-fed rich man, in his white BMW V3. He traveled with his sick, decrepit son-- as misshapen as he-- by his side, and parked his vessel by almost running me down, stealing the very spot where I was navigating Mr. Maloosh into port. A battle of wills pursued, where I hastily protested the capture of the hallowed parking space so rightfully ours. Being the vile, bloated, worm of a rich man he was, the driver declared his taking of said spot as "a medical emergency", pointing to his pale, sickly, butt-ugly offspring, and thus successfully appealing to the Samaritan in me. Upon his snarky delivery of such excuse, I protested that he may use the ambulette parking instead, thus being said medical emergency. He scoffed at me, and I, in turn, called him an "asshole". He replied, "Well I have the spot, and you don't", thus revealing his fallacious defense! Our duel thus intensified, with me calling him a "fat fucking piece of shit" and he me, "a cocksucker". After gazing upon his son entering the medical brig unescorted, this fat fucking piece of shit then stewed alone in his white vessel, for he either feared my wrath upon his treasured craft, or was too parsimonious to pay the Muni-Meter! Tell me, O kindred brothers and Saints above, what is the vision of such a man's soul?! What measure of louse uses his sick son as leverage in a struggle of position?! An evil vision, my friends-- as dark and desolate as his wee beady eye. From that day forward, I swore to sail these streets in search of vanity plate ABIG TOY, with the hopes of desecrating its gleaming white hull, off the clock. Let madness eclipse me! For hates sake, I shall spit my last breath at he!

New Yorker Cartoon

2011-03-06T19:31:00.002-05:00

2011-03-03T21:19:00.000-05:00

Spotted on the inside of a rental truck: World War III?

2011-03-03T21:18:00.000-05:00

Hauling shit, hauling ass, smell my lug nut.

2011-03-03T21:16:00.000-05:00

Another day, another trip down Houston.

Average day on Park Ave

2011-02-24T14:25:00.001-05:00

Rainbow to Boot!

2011-02-24T14:23:00.000-05:00

Awesum Logo!

2011-02-24T14:21:00.001-05:00

Excellent use of tape!

Dandy Fop Sighting! Now What?

2011-02-24T14:17:00.002-05:00

This look is still alive and well.

The SHOES are Helping AND Hurting

WEIRD PED

2011-02-24T14:14:00.002-05:00

moving at a pace of 2 city sidewalk squares a minute. weird hair.

2011-02-17T16:59:00.002-05:00

Fellow man of the road, Rev. Dr. Desmond Tutu. We exchanged head nods.

2011-02-17T16:52:00.003-05:00

Cow catcher halo bender.

Monkey wrench

2011-01-23T21:42:00.001-05:00

Dirt art from a big fan of workers' tools.

Tri boro signage

2011-01-15T23:20:00.005-05:00

Who's the man? Blissville, Queens.

Wrinkle hand, Mount Vernon-Bronx border.

Pianoer, UES, Manhattan.

2011-01-15T21:26:00.007-05:00

Eliptical House of NOVA (deceased) and his multiple wives. Wayward Hamptons.

NOVA. Man's man.

Harlem row houses.

The H2 Alpha model

2011-01-09T15:54:00.003-05:00

This badboy - spotted in the wild, corporate park badlands of South-Western Connecticut - comes shovel-ready, gas can-equipped, and emblazoned with the proto-military shield of the true Alpha dog asshole.

Joe Jr's

2010-12-13T15:17:00.002-05:00

Millionaire Realty

2010-12-13T15:14:00.006-05:00

I really like how the house on the right part of the sign seems to suggest the approximate size of the house
that a millionaire can afford in New York City. Only billionaires get to live in really big places

Island Vibe Meat Patty

2010-12-13T15:14:00.002-05:00

Now We Serve Hotdogs

2010-12-13T15:12:00.003-05:00

Hard to imagine this diner in it's "Pre-Hotdog" days.

Meth Vibe Santa

2010-12-13T15:11:00.000-05:00

I support this message

2010-12-13T15:09:00.001-05:00

"Weiner Poop"

Komposition mit Diagonals

2010-12-13T15:06:00.001-05:00

4,3,2,1

2010-06-13T12:19:00.002-04:00

2010-04-12T17:02:00.000-04:00

And Remember...

2010-04-10T00:28:00.002-04:00

!!!

2010-04-10T00:23:00.001-04:00

That's right. Laminate it and put it up in the office for clients to see.

Not so...

2010-03-20T10:51:00.003-04:00

Paddy Waggin'

2010-03-18T13:57:00.008-04:00

My mother's side of the family is classic Irish Roman Catholic: green wearin', Power's drinkin', jig jiggin' Micks...and half my uncles were cops. Even still, I loathe the NYC Paddy's Day parade. Leave it to hordes of the imbibed and stupefied to coral snake the living shit out of every major bridge and tunnel in the city. (The pic is the live traffic feed from o'google maps, 3.17.2010)

Wake up sweating.

2010-03-16T22:39:00.004-04:00

From this blaugh.

Life of Winter.

2010-03-14T19:24:00.007-04:00

Mike.

Mike, deconstructed.

For Effort...

2010-02-26T19:46:00.003-05:00

Tupac's Older Brother

2010-02-26T17:46:00.000-05:00

Is it just me or are storage facilities gross?

2010-02-26T17:32:00.007-05:00

They are rat infected dumps filled with dead bodies, more allergens than a field in spring, stuff, and homeless men that rent out storage units to spend time hanging out in (actually thats pretty cool).

Here's one fine example of another reason why they are gross: the sexual innuendos that they blatently plaster all around town. Dick-in-a-Box Storage!?!?! I mean really!

Still not convinced?

Like a Ray of Light

2010-02-26T17:19:00.007-05:00

Remember cruising around in the summer?

What do you mean no snow day?!

2010-02-26T17:12:00.002-05:00

I hope those poor bastards at New York Department of Sanitation get quadruple time on a day like today.

King Oscar

2010-02-20T21:43:00.011-05:00

Good Lord. These poor, poor souls. For those not in the know, behold: sheer terror. If I can remember correctly, this was taken around 8:13 in the morning. Just imagine... you and your co-worker just picked up the rental, en route to the job and, not being familiar with the height of this foreign vehicle, cruise straight into a low overpass to a dead jarring halt.

Shudder.

Not only is the trailer sardined, but you're not making it to the job site anytime soon. You might have waved the meager insurance fee if you're a cheapskate. And man, let me tell ya, the guys at Ryder give you grief after pouring water into the transmission fluid rez. Imagine rolling in with this calamity.

Sheer terror.

As you can see, the driver in an acute daze and pale as a ghost. The co-driver stumbled off in an unknown direction, I don't know why. It must have felt like being told you have three herniated discs in between L3/L4/L5/S1 in your lumbar, need a triple discectomy with accompanying spinal fusion, and will never work with your friends ever again, let alone touch your toes...

Actually, nahhh, it doesn't. Tearing the roof off a box truck must feel wayyy worse.

Crouching cop, Hidden blocking the box ticket.

2010-02-07T12:21:00.002-05:00

The newest in traffic law enforcement: hiding behind stuff.

Help!

2010-02-04T07:35:00.002-05:00

Two Choices, Obscured Warning.

2010-01-14T09:32:00.006-05:00

Large truck drivers [large trucks, not drivers, though often the drivers too] would like all small car drivers to understand that passing a truck on the driver's side is safer than passing on the passenger's side. This is often indicated on the back of a truck with an arrow pointing to the driver's side with the word "Yes" and an arrow pointing to the passenger's side with the word "No." Already a cryptic message which goes mostly unnoticed by its intended audience, the pass-preference signage has become nothing more than a medium for truckers to impart that famous trucker's wit to the streets. (Another example of said wit is attaching a stuffed animal to a truck's grill). Though passing on the left is a golden rule of traffic safety that deserves constant reiteration, the digression from "YES/NO" pushes the message into the realm of truckers' inside joke. The creative messages tend towards death threats rather than safety warning. In our photo here, the implied message: pass on the left and be grateful to the lord Jebus that you have survived another day navigating to work like an asshole. Pass on the right and die like hippy scum.

Driving Miss Daisy

2010-01-13T21:26:00.008-05:00

Here's a picture of a city cat meowing around in style ah-top a satin pillow in a swanky BMW. Just in the shadows is a black cat riding around on its own fluffy surface. These two meowpants were headed west straight into the meat packing to live miserably in a new apartment.

Comic Book Guy, after the store went under.

2009-12-09T16:15:00.004-05:00

Please Help: Financially responsible for a litter of cats, an unwashed ponytail, and one of your grandmother's discarded dining room chairs.

AND DO WHAT WITH THEM?

2009-12-06T22:03:00.000-05:00

Mike's Buha

2009-11-22T22:50:00.000-05:00

Cheney Sighting! Again.

2009-11-22T00:31:00.001-05:00

Back in midtown, I guess.

Weld me beautiful.

2009-10-14T17:52:00.003-04:00

Technically, this piece of art does not represent a box truck and would perhaps be more at home on a dump truck blog. However, I've yet to find a decent dump truck blog.

2009-10-02T20:19:00.000-04:00

"Evil Fantacies...3-Generations of Family Service"

2009-09-21T00:10:00.002-04:00

On the Left hand corner of the screen we can read the words "Ho" and "Pimp". The billboard in the center of the image features the heads of strippers floating over the city. The image of Cold Beer,which is as cold as the mountains are crisp, floats in the top of the image.

Proof that Jean Claude Van Damme (JCVD) never goes anywhere in his car without his mechanic around to change his tires for him if he gets a flat

2009-09-08T22:50:00.005-04:00

Azulette.

2009-09-07T21:00:00.004-04:00

Ahhh, summertime. I'm glad to say this year I was able to slip out of the city for a few weeks and get in a little trucking down in Nicaragua. This baby blue buddy runs on dirty diesel and a plate of gallopinto. Fartin' all the way from Managua to Rivas to the beach here in San Juan del Sur.

Extra Friggin' Innings

2009-09-01T21:53:00.010-04:00

Damn. Has it ever been a tough long day when you can't even fit dollies and c-bins in the back of the truck. And imagine, if these poor stiffs just got done moving an apartment of les French or zee Germans, then the day was extra long... because we all know EUROPEANS DON'T TIP FOR SHIT.

These here, my testicles.

2009-09-01T21:24:00.003-04:00

"I joyously anticipate the afternoon I spot the chap whose vanity plate reads 'DEEZNUTS'. What a hearty chuckle we shall share. Only in New York City would two strangers both wish to call attention to the existence of his own testicles through the medium of state-issued automobile licensing signage. And in the local vernacular, no less!"

Duster Fedora

2009-08-31T22:37:00.003-04:00

"The Captain"

2009-08-30T22:08:00.003-04:00

Haunting. Like something right out of a Paul McCarthy installation.

BOX TRUCK Euro Edition

2009-08-19T20:37:00.008-04:00

Finally, a fucking European box truck! Weird! Why do you guys have that little door so close to the back of the bed? Whats with that archaic liftgate? Those are really fucking small wheels! Does that foil actually improve your aerodynamics? Because the speed limits here are slow as shit! You know you can buy an environmentally friendly graffiti remover, right? You need a cow pusher. Damn those are small wheels. You guys should visit New York and take notes. I just figured out why that door is at the back of the bed: its because of the archaic liftgate, right? You need to replace that thing. You don't even have a step-up installed to make hopping into the door easier. You need to visit New York.

The So-Called "Hobo Deli"

2009-08-06T20:57:00.003-04:00

Dude is like "This hot dog is gonna suck. No bun or nuthin."

Weird One

2009-07-30T19:17:00.002-04:00

Guiding Light

2009-07-22T17:22:00.004-04:00

The midtown hustlefuck will drive you flat-out berserk until you spy a highly prized truck parking sign. That's your cue to tell some rich ding-bat in a white 2010 Beamer to shove the fuck off out of your parking spot with a thumb jerk and a toot of the horn. The rich can keep their penthouses...the working class owns the streets, bitch.

Real Urban Cowboy

2009-07-20T00:04:00.009-04:00

This cowboy was spotted talking up some ladies in East New York last week. He was doing his rounds not far from Cedar Lane Stables, home of the Federation of Black Cowboys on Linden Blvd. Should have asked him for his cowboy moniker. Surely, a legend.

NRT

2009-07-17T09:09:00.003-04:00

Fifth Ave Dead End Foreclosure

2009-07-17T09:06:00.002-04:00

Cheyney Sighting! (Close-Up!)

2009-07-05T22:44:00.003-04:00

Got this with the 5X Zoom.