One of the ranch houses we lived in had a sewage problem a-rise. Himself was friends with one of the local boys who had a honeypot truck. There were stories that he had cut a hole in his dinning room floor so that the table scraps could be fed to the hogs that lived under his house. His life was pretty much the shits, what with running sheep and hogs and driving a honeypot truck for a living.
Anyway, here he comes with his truck to pump out the septic tank. After getting the front yard dug up, and the tank pumped, he jumps down in the tank. The happiest look comes over his face, and he tells me that we really need a new tank, as the old one is falling apart. Falling apart? Yep, the old one is made of redwood, oh, and can he have the ol boards. "Uh, yeah, you can have the ol redwood boards." He carefully dismantles the tank, and lovingly places the boards on the side of his truck. I can't stand it anymore, and ask what he is going to do with the boards. "Well, I'm thinking of making a bar out of them for my family room. You just don't find redwood like this anymore." No, I guess you don't.
A while later the guys mentioned that he had built a redwood bar in his family room. I never said anything to the guys, his life is his own.