Rhychard hated mornings, especially mornings that required him to get out of bed and haul other people’s stuff around for free. Of course, this morning it wasn’t simply other people’s years of collected junk. It was his mother’s. Worse than working early in the morning for free, he dreaded working for family. They not only expected you to work for free, but they expected you to be happy about it. Rhychard’s wallet was far from happy. Some people refused to own a truck for just that reason. Once the news was out you owned one, every family member and freeloading friend you had asked you to help them move something. It was the same with his business, My Hand Truck & I. The part some of his friends—and his mother—didn’t comprehend was that it was his business, his livelihood, and not a charity.