09/06/2026
For the record, it was ice-cold in that room!
Wait.
Whoops.
That’s a stock photo.
Sorry for getting all defensive.
Must’ve had a bit of a flashback.
Anyhoo.
She’s referring to our problem.
It’s small.
At first.
Usually it starts with two people walking over to the truck.
They get margaritas.
Normal bar behavior.
Then one of them comes back with somebody else because apparently they “need to see this.”
.. Then another person walks over... Then somebody wants to know what’s in the spicy one... Then somebody takes a picture... Then somebody who “doesn’t really drink margaritas” decides maybe they do, actually.
And before long...
our small problem isn’t very small anymore.
There are 45 people standing around a blacked-out 1977 Chevy Step Van in somebody’s driveway...
while all the chairs the host spent two hours arranging are sitting nearby doing absolutely f**k-all.
This keeps happening.
Which is slightly inconvenient.
Because technically...
we’re supposed to be the bar.
That’s it.
Pull in. Open the window. Make drinks.
Stay politely off to the side while everybody enjoys the party.
Except nobody seems particularly interested in the “politely off to the side” part.
.. They hang around... They lean against the truck... They ask questions... They order another one... They bring somebody back.
Some guy eventually decides the service window is now where he lives.
At weddings, the groom occasionally disappears.
Nobody panic.
Check the truck.
He’s usually fine.
And look...
there are much simpler ways to serve drinks.
Way simpler: Hire a bartender.
(They’ll probably be great.)
Pull that little folding table out of the shed.
Wipe whatever the hell is on it off.
Set them up next to the potato salad.
Move the crockpot full of meatballs over six inches so they have somewhere to cut limes.
Couple bottles.
Bucket of ice.
Stack of cups.
Congratulations.
You have a bar.
And if what you need is simply:
People need drinks.
That works...
Perfectly.
Honestly, dragging an entire fu***ng Chevy to your house would be an absurdly complicated solution to that problem.
So why do people do it?
'Cause somewhere along the way...
“we need drinks”
turns into:
“What’s this whole thing going to feel like when everybody actually gets here?”
That’s different.
Now you’re thinking about the food.
Music.
Lighting.
Who’s coming.
Where everybody’s going to hang out.
All the stupid little details that individually seem unnecessary...
but somehow determine whether the night feels like something.
And that’s where our small problem becomes kind of useful.
Because the truck doesn’t just give people somewhere to get a margarita.
It gives them somewhere to go:
.. Somewhere to gather... Something to walk over to... Something to talk about... Something to take a picture of.
And before you know it, the bar has accidentally become part of the party.
Which sounds like the kind of bu****it every event company says about themselves...
except we keep watching people ignore perfectly good furniture to stand next to the damn truck.
So there’s that.
Now...
is this for everybody?
Nooooo.
If you’re looking for the cheapest possible way to get tequila into 60 adults...
we are a terrible fu***ng idea.
Just go:
.. Buy booze... Buy ice... Hire somebody good... Save your money.
Seriously.
But if you’re already putting real thought into everything else...
and the idea of the “bar” being a folding table squeezed between the food and somebody’s Yeti cooler suddenly feels a little depressing...
well.
That’s usually when people start looking at the truck differently.
And there is one more problem.
Also small.
Our fleet consists of...
one truck.
That’s it.
One.
So when somebody books a Saturday, we don’t go into the warehouse and grab another blacked-out ’77 Chevy.
‘Cause there isn’t one.
No fake countdown timer.
No “ONLY 2 DATES LEFT!!!” horses**t.
The truck is simply parked at somebody else’s party.
Anyway.
Maybe none of this matters.
Maybe you keep the folding table.
Probably easier.
Probably cheaper.
Probably more sensible.
But if you’re already looking at your driveway wondering whether that fu***ng truck would fit...
our small problem may have just become yours.
