The Concrete Trilogy: Bustin’ Begins

Back in, oh, 2007, the previous owners decided that grass just wasn’t their bag. What was their bag, you ask? – 119,000 pounds of concrete.

Yipee!

We moved to California from NYC. We have had enough of concrete. Out it must come. (Here‘s our endgame for the Upper Yard that we detailed a few posts back.)

Enter sledgehammer, mattock, and two crazies called Armand and Brooke.

Let the bustin’ begin!

We had found a recycling center that would charge us $10 a load in Armand’s Toyota Tacoma. Well, till the boss found out at load six and bumped the price up to $25. Gulp. That’ll add up fast. And he let it slip that it wasn’t actually getting recycled. Boo.

So we decided to just keep on bustin’ while we came up with another plan for getting rid of it.

Meanwhile, 108 pound me is feeling pretty badass.

Armand busted more than concrete on the second day of work. While his wrist healed up I busted about 80% of it myself.

Now I’m feeling completely badass.

I also dismantled that shed and we sold it as scrap. Got about $6.

Isn’t that bougainvillea going to be beautiful once it’s cascading over that pergola we’re going to build?

The concrete was anywhere from 4 1/2 inches to 1 foot thick.

This took about two months to accomplish, working whenever we had time.

What did we do next? Stay tuned for The Concrete Trilogy: The Big Wheel & Haul. We’ll have something for everyone in the next installment – bikinis, monster trucks, buried treasure, and a twist that no one would see coming.