My New Roof

State Farm let me know, very politely but without a doubt, that they were going to cancel my homeowners insurance if I didn’t replace my shingles. Fair enough. They even said they’d accept a metal roof — and I think metal roofs are a racket, just like solar panels. They should be less expensive than shingles — the labor’s about a tenth, the material costs less, and somehow the roofer and the manufacturer still make out like bandits.

Turns out, State Farm was right. My old shingles were barely holding on — one good breeze and they would’ve been confetti.
So I called a contractor, and he sent a crew out faster than I expected. They rolled up in a pickup packed tighter than a clown car, piled out, and went straight to work.

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They didn’t speak English, but hand signals, nods, and a lot of pointing kept things moving. And man, did they work — thirteen hours straight on day one, and right back at it the next morning. I was exhausted just standing there watching them.

Not wanting to risk any interruptions, I dragged out a folding chair, parked myself in the middle of the driveway, racked my shotgun once for dramatic effect, and kept watch. ICE wasn’t getting anybody until the last nail was down.

Neighbors slowed to watch. Some waved. Some stared. One guy even handed me a sandwich — probably figuring it was safer to stay on my good side.
I ate it. Good sandwich, too.

By the end of the second day, the roof looked brand new, the crew was still smiling, and I had a perfect shotgun-shaped sunburn on my upper leg — right where it rested under my shorts.

All in all, not a bad couple of days. And thanks to State Farm, I still have insurance — at least until they find something else.
They’ve now told me to chop down my trees. Good luck with that.

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