Last week, one of the stranger phone calls I’ve received in recent memory led to my being the “hero” in an incident involving the Potato Truck that is currently touring the country on behalf of the Idaho Potato Commission. The truck, for those of you who may not have seen or heard of it, is a long flatbed on top of which sits a giant Idaho potato—fake, of course, unless someone has been conducting some genetic modification experiments we don’t know about.
The tale began last Wednesday, when I answered a call from Don Odiorne, head of the IPC. It went something like this:
Don: “Are you in your office?”
Me: “Yes.”
Don: “Do you have your checkbook?”
Me: “Yessss . . .”
Don: “How would you like to be a hero?”
It turned out that the Potato Truck, which readers could see photos of by visiting the IPC’s Facebook page, was trying to go from central New Jersey to Hunt’s Point Terminal Market, in The Bronx. However, in order to accomplish that seemingly minor feat, the truck would need permits from the New York City Department of Transportation—one to come into the city and one to leave. The cost of the permits was $70. However, the NYC DOT does not do credit card transactions for its permits, nor does it accept cash. And, because the IPC was trying to get the truck to Hunt’s Point the next day, mailing a check was out of the question.
Enter our hero. I agreed to go down to the DOT’s office—it was only about three blocks from our downtown Manhattan office—and write them a check, if the permits were approved. I waited, but the DOT hadn’t made up its mind by the end of business Wednesday. The approval was granted the following morning, and I turned over a check to a very friendly Kevin Lobat from the DOT, who coincidentally lives about two miles from me on Staten Island.
Don later sent me a message on Facebook, letting me know that the truck was able to make its stop at the Terminal Market. This week, the truck is headed to the U.S. Department of Agriculture’s headquarters in Washington, D.C. I hope they’ve got their permits in order, because I’m all out of checks.