For the last year or two, I've been in a hangar that I was subleasing. I lucked into this hangar when the fellow who had it, whom I'll call Albus, moved out of state. Albus thought, however, that he might be moving back in a couple of years' time, and he didn't want to give up the hangar only to then wish that he hadn't. We were introduced via a sort of friend-of-a-friend arrangement, and came to an agreement whereby I occupied the hangar and paid the rent to Albus, who in turn paid the airport. Part of the agreement was that if Albus did find himself returning, he would be able to occupy the hangar again. As I was already on the waiting list for a hangar, I hoped that my name would come up before Albus decided to move back to California.
The so-called friend-of-a-friend arrangement needs a bit of clarification: I know a guy we'll call Ron. Ron's father, Arthur, knows Albus. I now know Arthur as well, but at the time this all started we'd only met once in passing.
Anyway, this past summer, my name did make it to the top of the waiting list, and I got a phone call from the airport manager. I'll call him Severus. Severus offered me a recently-vacated hangar at the other end of the airport, less than half a mile away. In turn, I called Albus to let him know and asked him what he wanted to do about his hangar. Albus told me that he had decided that he was going to remain in his new abode, and had no desire to retain the California hangar once I was done with it. With this information, I inquired of Severus whether it would be possible for Albus to relinquish his hangar and for me to have it instead of the one being offered (since I was at the top of the hangar list anyway.) This would save me the aggravation of moving, and it would let Severus offer the hangar he'd offered to me to the next person on the hangar list - thus getting two names off the waiting list. Severus said no, because he said that he couldn't offer a hangar to a new tenant until it was vacant and he had inspected it. He did happen to mention that tenants could trade hangars, and so I inquired how that process works. His reply was that if tenants wished to trade hangars, he would have to inspect each hangar to verify that there was an airplane in each that was appropriately registered to the respective parties. Since Albus' airplane was by now several thousand miles away, that option was out. Really liking the hangar I was in, and dreading the thought of moving, I tried offering Severus a variation: He could call the next person on the waiting list, and show them both hangars. If they wanted the one he was offering me, we'd "trade" and they could have it now. If they wanted the one I was currently in, they could have it once I moved out , say next month. As you may surmise, I was hoping that they would take the already-empty hangar, letting me stay where I was. But no, Severus would have none of it.
And so, with Albus' concurrence, I stayed put in the hangar I was subbing from him. In the midst of this drama, I bemoaned the silliness of the whole thing to one of the airport friends who helped Albus and me get together in the first place. He offered to sublease my new hangar for parts storage (he runs a small shop on the airport.) So, I also took the hangar Severus offered, and subbed it out to Ron.
The big stuff is easy; it's the little stuff that'll get ya. Put another way, the last ten percent is the hardest and the longest. I lost count, but I must have made at least a dozen round trips shuttling back and forth. Every time I'd think I was nearly done, I'd realize that I had neglected to notice some pile of something or other. Unlike the recent house move, this one was completely solo - no hired help at each end to move things along. And it's the ends that matter (Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know: The ends justify the means - but that's not what I meant!): There's just as much work to move a thousand feet as a thousand miles.
Thus, I informed Albus that I would be out of his hangar by the end of the month, which by this time was March. When I shared this with Severus, he mentioned that Albus' rent would be prorated to the actual date that the hangar was vacated. That little fact gave me some added impetus to get the job done sooner rather than later, especially since I knew I would be out of town for most of the last third of the month.
Here's a better look at the problem: The old hangar, sans Baron; too much stuff!The whole job covered the span of ten days, with most of the actual moving concentrated in the first two days and last two. On the last day, I happened to encounter Severus in the local Subway sandwich place, and told him that I would be completely out later that afternoon. I later sent him and Albus a picture of the newly-emptied hangar, which was about as good a notice as I could think of:
This is when it doesn't pay to be a packrat!
This is when it doesn't pay to be a packrat!
That's pretty much the story. So far, anyway. After all the wrangling, the new hangar (my hangar) is a mixed bag. I'm in it legitimately, which is good for the peace of mind. It's right next to the street, which isn't. And it's noisy, although it must sound crazy for someone on an airport to be complaining about street noise. It's right next to the restrooms, which is handy, but which also means that there will be a lot more people walking by who will want to stop and chat and see what's going on (for some people, that would be a plus; I'm not one of those people.) The best thing though is that I can put the Baron in this hangar by myself using just the Robotow battery-operated towbar; the other hangar required the use of either the tug or the truck - a nerve-wracking experience every time, thanks to the minimal wingtip clearance. Another plus for this hangar: the door appears to be maybe a foot wider. Too bad I won't get to use it for the next few months!