I just moved 1300 pounds of printing press into the storage container sitting in front of the house. Alone. Over bog-like grass and gravel, with the floor of the container 3 inches above what the palette could be lifted to. This process involved mallets, inclined planes, non-inclined planes, levers, fulcra and counterweights. It was old school, and epic, a feat not to be matched in our lifetime. A triumphal arch should be built to commemorate what happened today. It should be retold on the big screen in full Technicolor glory staring Charlton Heston, complete with an overture and intermission, so that our children's children's children can be awed by my struggle against the elements.
(It was also cold, wet, filthy and exhausting, but I think that is a subset of old school.)
(It was also cold, wet, filthy and exhausting, but I think that is a subset of old school.)