Actually, it's just a long ramp that takes you to the top of a dumpster, that gets hauled away on a set schedule or whenever it gets full.
To dump your load, you must be a resident off my small town. Acceptable proof of residency is a utility bill.
Last week I took a load consisting of a broken limb from the recent storms, the remnants of our tile kitchen counter top, a few bags of grass shavings, and a trash can full of wood shavings.
I drove the loaded El Camino up the ramp and started unloading everything non-organic, since there are piles located elsewhere in the dump for those items.
A 60-something fella I've never seen or met before, comes walking up to me. He's about 5 foot nothing, 200 and something, coke bottle glasses, red bandana tied round his balding but thankfully comb-over free pate, stained t-shirt (no holes), and rustic blue jeans. And he has three eyebrows.
Picture Boss Hogg on a rough day spent out at Cooter's garage.
Me - Just some stuff to dump.
Me - Oh, okay. Here.
Me - Well, my address is right there on my driver's license.
Me - Likewise (shaking his hand)
BH - Just saying, I don't know you, never seen you around here, and I've been here for 3-weeks now.
Me -Well, you probably won't see many Asian fellas driving a classic red and white El Camino hot rod around here, neither.
BH - I reckon'
Me - Okay, well, sorry to make a mess of things, and I'll be sure to bring out my bill next time I'm out here.
BH - I'd appreciate that very much.
Don't want him to think I"m some disrespectful punk kid