The Truck Comes Back With a Full Tank, No Exceptions

Everybody knows a man with a pickup, and his phone rings every time anyone he's ever met buys a couch. For two summers in my twenties, I was why it rang. I returned his truck with the needle resting on E, a fine layer of potting soil in the bed, the seat pushed back for legs I don't have, and the radio tuned to a polka station I still can't explain. He never said a word. He just stopped picking up on Saturdays. These are the rules I learned the long way, so you can learn them the short way.

The rules

1. Ask. Don't assume. "You still have the truck, right?" sounds like a question and works like a hostage note. Ask with a few days' notice and give the owner an easy way to say no, because his truck has a schedule you can't see.

1. Say exactly what you're hauling. "Just a few things" has never once meant a few things. A love seat and a cast-iron tub are different conversations, and the payload sticker on the driver's door jamb lists the maximum combined weight of passengers and cargo. Respect that number. (If the cargo is flat-pack furniture, your real problems start after you unload, and we've covered those.)

1. Walk around it together before you leave. Snap a few photos of the existing dings, cheerfully, like a rental counter that likes you. You aren't accusing anybody. You're making sure nobody ever has to wonder whether that dent came home with you.

1. Call your insurance agent before moving day. It's the least funny phone call in this column, which is exactly why you make it. Coverage on a borrowed vehicle depends on the policies and the state, and a five-minute call to your agent beats a five-month argument.

1. Bring your own straps. Borrowing the truck and the straps is like borrowing a boat and asking for the lake. Use rated ratchet straps hooked to the bed's tie-down points, not to the tailgate cables. Unsecured loads come off trucks and hit people on the highway. That part isn't a joke. If you've never bought straps, the hardware store is less scary than it looks.

1. Know what goes in the tank. Check the fuel door before you check your phone. Gas in a diesel, or diesel in a gas truck, means a tow and a repair bill. If it happens, don't start the engine. Tell the owner and call for a tow.

1. Drive like it's loaded, because it is. The truck didn't get faster when you put a refrigerator in it, though the downhill will try to convince you otherwise. Extra weight means longer stopping distances, so leave more room, take turns slower, and pull over after the first few miles to check the straps. Loads settle and straps loosen.

1. If there's a trailer, match the ball to the coupler. A 2-inch ball and a 2 5/16-inch coupler get along fine right up until the first pothole. The size is stamped on top of the ball. Cross the safety chains under the tongue, plug in the lights, and have someone stand behind it to confirm brake lights and turn signals before you leave the driveway.

1. Put the seat, mirrors and radio back. He'll find the polka station eventually, and he'll know. Mirrors matter most. The owner will back out of his garage tomorrow trusting them.

1. Return it fuller than you found it. A quarter tank going out means a full tank coming home. If it came to you full, it goes back full and washed. That's the rent. It isn't negotiable, and it holds even when he handed it over running on fumes.

1. Sweep the bed and wash the outside. Mulch isn't a thank-you gift. Leftover gravel, drywall dust and the one stray screw become his chores the minute you drive off. A push broom and a self-serve car wash finish the job.

1. Bring it back early. "Back by five" means four-thirty, in the driveway, keys in hand. People plan their whole evening around a vehicle, and a late truck turns your favor into his problem.

1. Report anything new before he finds it. That new rattle is yours now, emotionally and financially. Tell him straight, offer to pay, and let him pick the shop. A friendship can survive a scratch. It can't survive a secret.

1. Pay it back in muscle. The truck owner helps everybody move and somehow nobody ever helps him. Buy lunch on the day. Then, when he needs a hand, show up early and stay until the last chair is stacked.

1. And for the owner: no is a complete sentence. Lending your truck is a gift, not a public utility. Serving your friends is a fine way to live, but if somebody brings it back empty twice, "Not this time" is kind, honest and allowed.

The rule under all of them

Nobody lends you a truck. They lend you their trust and happen to throw in a truck. Bring both back in better shape than you found them, a little early and smelling faintly of car wash, and you'll never have to ask twice. Get it wrong, and you'll spend your next move carrying a mattress on the roof of a sedan, wondering why everyone you know is suddenly busy on Saturdays.